V for Vandal
by Sickonewithasmile
Summary: The boring life of Evey Hammond, store clerk, changes forever when she is robbed by a man wearing a Guy Fawkes mask. This chance meeting sets off a chain of events that neither party could predict.
1. Chapter One: Vandal

**Author's Note**: This story is an obvious AU, taken from a scene in the movie. Remember when V sends out all those packages of his costume, and someone uses it to rob a store…well…that's where the idea began. What if V was that man, what if this is how he started out? I'm not completely sure where this story is going, but believe me, it's got hundreds of different possibilities, and I'll take it from there.

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Evey Hammond flipped idly through an old newspaper, attempting to find something worth reading. That search would prove futile, however, as it had the past seventeen times she'd scanned the headlines tonight. She sighed in boredom as she came to the final page, folding the uninteresting piece of literature (if it could really be called that) and tucking it back under the desk she was currently sitting at. Everything was exactly the same. The white paint was peeling off of the wall in precisely the same place it had been since she'd started working at the convenience store, the neon "Open" sign always flickered occasionally where the p was connected to the e in a cursive flourish, and after nine o'clock, there would be no customers.

Propping her hand upon her chin, the disengaged young woman frowned and stared out one of the giant windows that led to the outside. Yet the outside did not equal freedom—no in fact it might even be safe to say that once she abandoned her post at the mini-mart, she would be under more scrutiny than ever. At least within the four walls she was free to become lost in a train of never-ending thoughts, or speak quietly to herself whenever no one in the store was present, but never an inflammatory statement. Something too caustic or scathing could alert the ever-present patrolling vans that picked up any and all conversations. And it would not do to complain about something so trivial as a boring job. This was simply her fate, her lot in life. Nobody said she would have to like it.

As Evey dove into the vast and cavernous sanction that was her mind, she felt perturbed for barely a moment—as if something horribly heavy had been dropped into the pit of her stomach. But the moment flickered past as quickly as it had come and soon she was completely lost to the world surrounding her. So lost that she did not hear the door at the other end of the store open, nor did she notice on the security camera in front of her that the customer was wearing a strange mask to conceal his face.

After a few moments, Evey recognized that someone had entered the store. Perhaps had she not been craving some company, she would have thought it odd that for the first time in the six months she'd worked here, someone had come in after nine. But, her need for companionship caused her to overlook this oddity, and also caused her to ignore the many TV screen monitors that were revealing the strange customer and his mask.

"Good evening, sir," Evey called out the trained response that only varied depending on the time of day. She could not hide the tiniest bit of hope in her voice, that maybe her final hour working wouldn't be so dull.

When there was no reply, Evey slumped a bit in defeat. Frustrated, she slouched in her chair, and glanced downwards. Maybe the masked man noticed her movement, and he turned away on purpose. Or perhaps he was just lucky and pivoted at the right moment. Whatever the reason, he turned his back to face towards the surveillance camera just as Evey peered at the screen.

She watched as the man meandered up the aisles, inspecting various snacks and treats. He would run his fingers over the products, sometimes even lifting them to read the labels, but he did not seem interested in purchasing anything. This began to frustrate Evey; she tapped her nails on the counter, impatiently. Eventually she voiced her annoyance,

"Are you planning on buying anything?"

The man seemed to be taken aback by the impatience in Evey's voice. He turned a bit, not revealing his face to the young cashier, but tilting it enough to show his mild surprise.

"Is my presence to your displeasure, miss?" His voice was velvety smooth, and it washed over Evey, almost intoxicating her. She could not disguise her astonishment at the man's elegance in his speaking. Intrigued, she attempted to get a better look at his face by leaning over the counter slightly.

"Uh, no…not at all."

"Oh…well…it will be."

Before Evey could even process the words, the man reached for his waist, and still with his back to her, pulled out a gun, and aimed it at her. His right hand was gloved, and he grasped the weapon tightly in it, all the while concealing his face.

"I'm assuming your expression is one of confusion, and extreme fright. No doubt you are gaping at me, disbelieving and unable to comprehend how and why a firearm is being pointed directly at you."

Frozen, Evey could only shift her gaze from the metallic weapon to the stranger's head. Her mind raced, yet it could not settle on one specific course of action. The seemingly polite albeit odd man now turned robber did not skip a beat, as he continued his speech of sorts.

"Let me assure you, I mean no offense when I say this, but that expression only serves to mar such a pretty face. So close your mouth, and listen to what I have to say, and it is my intention that the two of us shall part ways exactly the same as we as we met…unacquainted, unharmed, strangers."

A pregnant pause followed—as if he were waiting for Evey to say something. But when there was no response, he sighed, and flicked the gun towards the register.

"Go into the cash box, and pull out all of the money contained within it," he commanded. When Evey made no move to comply he sighed yet again, this time frustration was palpable. He pointed the weapon into the air, and fired. Every involuntarily screamed and raised her arms up as if to protect herself.

"I won't say it again," he chastised, his once smooth voice becoming increasingly jagged, and laced with annoyance. "Go into the cash box. And take out the money. Then, put it in a bag."

With shaking hands, Evey reached for the cash register, and opened it. As she grabbed some of the bills, her mouth began to move of its own accord. She began to speak without actually meaning to.

"Why are you doing this? You're not going to get away with it."

A chuckle escaped the thief. He stroked his chin with his left hand as if bemused by her question.

"Well, that is a rather bewildering inquiry if you ask me. Because why would I be robbing a small convenience store, knowing full well the consequences if I were to be apprehended? Why run such a risk? Why jeopardize my life, if not for some obviously significant and vital reason? The answer may not be as romantic as one might hope, but then again, the life of a criminal is never so. I am stealing for the sole purpose of acquiring money, much needed money. Now if your question was why am I taking what is not rightfully mine from this particular store, than I apologize if your hopes are dashed, because I chose this store at random."

Evey gawked at him, positive that he was insane. She dared not ask anymore questions, no longer sure if she was afraid of the weapon he was brandishing or of hearing another long winded speech. So, wisely, she complied with his wishes, and placed the fistful of money in the bag. As she reached out to place the overflowing sack on the counter, she toyed with the idea of pressing the red emergency button beside the monitor. Just as her fingers ghosted over the glass protective panel the burglar's voice rang out.

"Now, come, come my dear…did you really think I'd simply let you push that call button? At least have the decency to wait until I've left."

Instantly she pulled her hands back as if she had been slapped. Her face reddened in embarrassment--though why she was embarrassed about being caught by a criminal was rather ironic in her mind.

"Well, there you go. It's all there," she snapped, bitterly. But he made no move to approach her, he only waved the gun as if motioning her to get closer.

"If you would be so kind as to complete this transaction, by bringing the bag and its contents to me, I'd say we could both return to our lives."

Shaking her head slightly at the man's flippant reply she snatched the bag off of the counter and strode toward the figure clothed in nearly all black. When she got within close proximity of the gun, though, her confidence faded. She sidestepped around the weapon and was about to walk to his front when she was halted.

"That's close enough." And in one sweeping motion he whirled around, seizing the sack out of her hands and turning back around before she was able to get a close look at him. All she noticed before she was swallowed up by the darkness was a fast moving hand, and a smiling, white face.


	2. Chapter Two: Villians

**Author's Note: **Alright! Some animosity against the story. But, dear readers, I ask you to give this story a chance. It's not going to be about V the pit pocket running around London stealing banknotes and eventually gains a sexy sidekick named Evey who will aid him in his quest to steal a giant jewel from Sutler's bank vault. There will be plot twists and turns and I PROMISE that this will be an interesting tale. Again, this is an **AU** (an alternate universe) so things _are_ going to be different. If you don't like AU's, then, quite frankly, don't read. Thanks much for taking the time to read all this!

**Disclaimer:** Alan Moore (cranky old sod) owns this. He created it...but I twisted it for my own pleasure...mwhaha. Take that, Mr. Moore!

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An acute pain shot through Evey's skull as she regained her senses. Her head pulsated in complaint as she slowly lifted herself off of the linoleum floor.

_God…my head…what happened? _

It took some time for her to recover her bearings. She glanced over at the giant clock on the wall, and gasped. Putting her hand to her mouth she attempted to keep the disgusting taste down as it was rapidly rising in her throat. 1:30 in the morning, far after curfew. This was serious trouble…

"What am I gonna do? What am I gonna do. Oh God…it's 1:30…1:30…" Evey was now standing, and dizzy as she was she managed to pace around the store, voicing her concerns and fears. She twisted her fingers and occasionally touched her lips. Her eyes would widen, and then they would close as if she had a massive headache.

"I need to call the police…I need to call….somebody…"

Darting over to the phone at the counter she lifted the receiver up and swore when the automated response greeted her.

"It is now one thirty seven, exactly four hours and seven minutes after curfew. Please hang up your phone, now. This is for your protection."

Slamming down the phone, she cursed loudly. Impulse took over and she lifted the glass panel covering the emergency button and pressed it with her palm. The alarm blared, and Evey had to resist the urge to cover her ears. Soon the Fingermen would be arriving.

"So…let me make sure I understand this correctly, Miss…?"

"Hammond."

"Ah, Miss Hammond," the detective glanced at the young woman, with much scrutiny, as if she were a young child prone to telling fantastic stories. "Now, you're claiming that a strange man--"

"He was wearing a mask," she interjected.

"Wearing a mask," he repeated. "Came into the store at around nine pm?"

"Yes." She replied, nodding her head vigorously.

"And you did not find this at all suspicious?"

Evey paused for a moment, realizing the implication behind this query.

"I couldn't see that he was wearing a mask, he had his back turned away from me and the cameras."

The detective raised his eyebrows and frowned. "I thought you said he aimed a gun at you."

"He did," she insisted with force, "but he never turned around."

"So how did he know where to aim?"

"I don't know."

"And why didn't you push the emergency call button sooner?"

"He knew the moment I was about to push it." Evey wanted to scream in rage. She struggled to keep her voice steady and free from anger.

"Am I being investigated for this?"

The detective didn't answer, he only scribbled a few more notes into his notepad. He never made eye contact with her as he spoke his final words,

"If you can think of anything at all, please let myself or my partner know. Thank you for your cooperation—you are free to leave now. An escort will take you back to your home."

He turned away just then, and his presence was replaced by a Fingerman. Evey didn't like the sight of him, he was creepy looking, and her body involuntarily shuddered as she imagined herself walking home with this man.

He didn't so much as look at or speak a word to Evey, just grabbed her elbow and pulled her out of the store. Gulping slightly, Evey allowed herself to be tugged away. As she was forcibly pulled she glanced back at the many investigators, silently praying that one of the less menacing ones would accompany her as well. But no one so much as turned their heads in her direction. Within seconds she was being led down unfamiliar alleyways, forgetting that she had not yet told the Fingerman her address.

The few minutes they had been walking seemed more like hours to Evey. Everything was shrouded in darkness and her eyes had not yet become adjusted to the lack of fluorescent lighting that illuminated the convenience store. She searched for familiar landmarks or buildings, but ultimately failing in that endeavor. All the metal structures seemed to blend into one uniform building that existed everywhere, and Evey had not seen a street sign the entire time she'd been marched along.

"Where, exactly, are we going?" Evey asked, doing her best not to stumble or trip as she was led along, like a dog.

"I wouldn't ask questions if I were you," came the gruff reply, "just keep moving."

They walked a little further when Evey suddenly stopped dead in her tracks. She was almost yanked forward by the sheer strength of her leader, but she held her ground.

"I haven't even told you where I live…"

The Fingerman turned at that statement, obviously annoyed. "Now see, why'd you have to go and do that, question me? This could have been very easy, love. You just made it a whole lot worse."

Her eyes widening in horror, Eye attempted to break away from her captor. He quickly lunged for her, grabbing her around the waist and picking her up over her shoulder. Instantly her reflexes kicked in as she began to punch, kick, and scream for her life.

"See, if you had kept quiet, nobody woulda heard," the Fingerman scolded, mock apologetically. "You've probably woken up my friends now, and they're gonna want a fair turn, too."

Sure enough, Evey noticed another man approaching her, and in the far off distance an outline of someone else was heading towards her. She ceased screaming, and simply went limp with fear in the man's arms.

"Please, just let me go," she whimpered, panic building with each syllable. "I'll go straight home, I won't say a word to anyone. Please, just let me go."

Suddenly she was thrown against a brick wall, her back connecting with the cold stone. She shivered and struggled, but he had her completely pinned. His meaty hands had circled her wrists, and he held her there as his companions began to progressively move closer until they had surrounded her.

"What do you think, boys, should we go easy on her?" The one holding her laughed as if the idea was sheer absurdity. Everyone else gave appreciative chuckles too. Evey continued to spasm with fear. Though it would have been impossible to see their faces, she closed her eyes anyway.

"I think we should teach her a lesson, one she'll never forget." She turned her face away as she felt warm breath blow over her face.

"We best pound it into her."

The other men snickered at the crude joke, and Evey felt the tears begin to trail down her cheeks. Her body convulsed with silent sobs and she braced herself for what was inevitably going to occur.

_Let it be over quickly_

"Might I ask just what is going on gentleman? I hope we are not mixing business with pleasure…for that always ends disastrously, let me assure you."

Evey opened one of her eyes cautiously, not sure if she was imagining the familiar voice—though she wasn't sure why it was so familiar…

"Eh, bugger off, you," one of the Fingermen shouted. "This ain't none of your business."

Evey screamed as a cold hand reached out to caress her face. Then there was a giant bang, the sound of a gun going off. She screamed again as she started to slide down the wall, the Fingerman's grip on her wrists loosening. A warm, sticky substance was oozing onto her, and soaking through the thin material of her shirt—it took her a few seconds to comprehend that it was blood.

"Hey! Do you know who we are…you're in a lotta-"

Another bang followed, cutting the man's sentence short. Evey watched in fascination and horror as her rescuer pivoted to aim at the third man. He stuttered a few mangled phrases out before running off in the opposite direction. Toying with the idea of killing him, the man cocked the gun and pointed it at the retreating figure, but dropped his arm down a few seconds later.

So enraptured with the fight, Evey had forgotten that she currently had a dead body pressed up against her. When she realized this she immediately kicked off the corpse, and shuddered as it fell away.

"I hope you're not hurt," the mysterious figure asked. He stepped towards Evey, offering his hand to aid her in standing. She was inches away from accepting when the wind picked up, sending away a cloud that had been concealing the moon. As her hero was bathed in light she stared up, hoping to catch a glimpse of his face. But it was not human flesh she had her eyes fixed upon…it was a mask. A mask she recalled seeing earlier this night…

"Wait," she drew back her hand instantly, falling backward and fumbling with her hands to find the support of the wall behind her. "You're the man in the store. You robbed me, and then knocked me out," she accused.

"Oh…well…this is rather awkward…" he suddenly recognized the girl, and his tone transformed into remorseful and embarrassed. Nevertheless, his intentions remained the same,

"I only mean to-"

"Get away from me!" She shrieked in terror as he extended his hand closer towards her. Cowering, she gazed up at him as if he were some sort of monster. He drew his hand back, and gave an aggravated sigh.

"My intention is only to help, not harm," he insisted.

"Yeah, well, you sure have a funny way of showing it. Pointing a gun at people, shooting in the air…"

Evey watched as he turned away, and began to walk back and forth in front of her. He seemed almost like an actor upon a stage, practicing his lines. Every so often he would turn on his heel, pause, and continue on with his words while walking in the opposite direction. Her eyes studied the peculiar man, taking in his Fedora hat, his shiny, polished boots, and most of all, the mask that covered his entire face completely.

"I will be the first to admit that I am a common criminal, a petty thief if you will. But, I am no cruel man who delights in torturing young women, as these men would have done, had I not intervened. Now, I only mean to assist you and accompany you to your home. If this does not please you than I shall continue on my way, and you may fend for yourself. The decision, is yours to make."

She bit her lip, deep in thought. Mulling over each possibility she eventually came to the conclusion that being alone this late at night would only arouse the suspicions of more strangers whose intentions for being out would not be honorable in the slightest. And since this man had just saved her, what harm could it do to trust him to take her to safety?

"Alright…I'll go with you."

"A wise choice," the man complimented her and again put out a gloved hand for her to grasp. This time she accepted, though hesitantly. As she raised herself to her feet she lowered her head.

"Who are you, anyway?"

This time it was the man's turn to be taken aback. He paused, as if unsure how to answer what was generally such a simply question.

"Hmm…I have been called many things. Vandal, Victim, Villain…my true name is of no consequence…but I suppose you could call me V." He paused, as if pleased by this choice. "Yes…V…"

"V? That's…different."

"And may I ask as to whom I am addressing?"

Evey hesitated. Was it really wise to reveal her identity to this man?

"I'm Evey," she mumbled, deciding to tell the truth.

"Well, Evey, if you don't mind I'd much rather be in my home than out in the cold. So, the sooner you begin walking, the sooner we may both return to the safety and comfort of familiarity."

Not having much choice, Evey followed his command, and began to retrace her steps back out of the alley. Within minutes she had spotted a street sign she recognized, and was on the correct path to her home. The entire time they walked—in complete silence—Evey could not help feeling a bit anxious. What if they were spotted out on the streets so late after curfew? What if the lone Fingerman had gotten reinforcements?

"Might I ask if we are getting any nearer to your home, Evey, or are we doomed to walk until dawn?" V's sarcasm irritated her. Perhaps a more mature person would have allowed the snide comment to pass without mentioning it, but Evey was a far cry from maturity.

"I'd think a criminal would be used to lurking in the shadows of night until dawn," she snipped back.

"Most people would not think it wise to provoke such a man." V countered. Evey wasn't clear as to whether the tone of his voice was jocular or threatening. She closed her mouth, attempting to quell her need to continue the banter.

Eventually she felt as though they were close enough in proximity to her apartment that there was no point in being escorted any further.

"Well," she turned and faced the stranger, V, and nodded, "I live just 'round the corner. I'm sure I'll be alright."

"Are you certain?"

"Positive."

"I don't blame you for your concern. You are more clever than our first encounter indicated. I hope you'll pardon me for the misjudgment?"

Unsure as to how to receive the compliment of sorts, Evey crossed her arms and shifted her gaze. "Yeah, sure…thanks."

"It would be a falsehood to declare this chance encounter a pleasure, Evey, but I will say that it hasn't been a complete disappointment. Adieu." He bowed, a low, sweeping gesture that nearly brought him to the ground. And before Evey could even utter a farewell, he had disappeared around another building's corner, and into the night.


	3. Chapter 3: Varying Views

**Author's Note:** Thanks for all the emails/reviews! I appreciate it immensely. I suppose I should apologize for the delay in updating…but please be patient. I go to a prep school that is merciless in its homework assignments. Thankfully, I have been sick these past couple of days so I've gotten to take a break from school, and can finish this chapter. It's a bit longer, so enjoy.

* * *

Detective Eric Finch was not a man who was easily perturbed. He could stare at gruesome crime scene photos without blinking an eye, never became nauseous while inspecting an autopsy, and had yet to be intimidated by any thug or criminal. Yet as he stared at the footage being played on his computer, of a robbery the night before, a strange feeling was settling into his stomach, and he was not sure as to why. His gut told him that something wasn't right about this. And it was this very same gut that had served him well in the past.

"Dominic...you say she had no idea he was wearing a mask?" Finch squinted as he stared at the screen. The masked man had clearly walked into the store, and his concealed face had been in perfect view of the camera for nearly thirty seconds.

"Yeah, it was really weird. She insisted she never knew he was wearing it. You think she's involved?"

Finch grunted a noncommittal reply, not willing to give an answer. Even though this was easily the fifteenth time he had observed this recording, he paid attention to every detail, freezing the frame often, and writing notes onto a pad. Dominic, his younger, somewhat rookie partner, wandered over to the other side of the table, and raised his eyebrows at the amount of handwriting spanning over several pages.

"Have you been in here the entire night?" He questioned, an eyebrow quirking.

When Finch did not even bother grunting this time, Dominic shook his head. "You need to get out of this office occasionally. See the sunlight."

Still no reply was given, and Dominic rolled his eyes. "It's just a robbery, Eric, we'll catch him."

Suddenly Finch's expression changed. He immediately rose out of his chair and pointed a finger at a nearby collection of DVDs.

"Gimmie the one from last week's"

"What?" Dominic asked, as he moved over to the pile of shiny disks. "Which one?" He hopelessly sifted through the heap and extracted a few badly scratched ones. They were labeled with permanent marker, the dates all ranging from precisely a week ago. Handing them to Finch, Dominic sighed and began to complain about the state of the office space they shared.

"You know, we really need to get this place clean again. I mean, look at this," he lifted up a box which at one point probably contained some sort of fast food "this has been sitting here since last month. And who knows what that god-awful smell is…"

"Shut up, Dominic." The command was muffled by Finch's hand pressed up against his mouth in a fist. He had inserted one of the disks into the computer and was now studying the footage carefully, his brow furrowed and his eyes narrowed. His partner came up behind him and watched in silence.

The first few minutes went by, and there was nothing out of the ordinary. A few customers had walked into the gas station snack shop, some milled about, not sure what beverage they wanted, while others quickly paid for their gas and departed just as swiftly.

Finch stiffened in his chair a bit when he noticed a figure adorned in black entering the store. His head was facing away from the camera and he quickly disappeared into an area free from surveillance. Dominic noted the oddity as well.

"Wait…do you think…"

He didn't need to voice his answer because soon everyone in the store had dropped to the ground, and the cashier was opening the register with shaking hands.

"How did we miss this?" Dominic asked to no one in particular. Finch did not reply, he merely rewound the clip and paused it the moment the man entered the store. He pressed a button and soon the computer was pulling up a picture of the man's ducked face.

"Jesus…"

Though the man had quickly escaped the camera's eye, he had managed to be caught on tape for a few seconds. And within those seconds his face had been revealed.

He was wearing the exact mask that the thief from the previous night had worn.

"I want you to get every copy of robberies committed from the past month. Every division, you got that?" Finch ordered quietly, his eyes still trained onto the computer screen. Nodding his head and exiting, Dominic was soon down the hall, briskly walking and in search of more surveillance footage.

* * *

Evey hadn't bothered to set her alarm clock, and therefore wasn't surprised when she awoke sometime in the mid-afternoon. The sunlight streamed through her flimsy curtains and seemed to serve no purpose other than to annoy her. She groaned and turned over to her side, shoving her head under a pillow. If ever there existed a text-book example of 'waking up on the wrong side of the bed' Evey Hammond would have given it a run for its money.

But eventually her body rebelled against her mind, and she was upon her feet. Fueled by a need to stretch and to eat, she walked over to the kitchen. She found the remote control to her pathetically small television—which had been installed rather randomly on a counter--and out of habit, turned it on. The noise filled the otherwise abundant silence in her apartment.

She started searching her cabinets for something edible. It had been weeks since she's felt compelled to buy food. Everything was too damn expensive, anyway. Just as she had finally decided on something with an expiration date only a few days overdue, a news story caught her attention completely.

"…the fifth convenience store robbery of the month. Police are baffled by the mysterious robber, but are confident that they have discovered new leads which may aid them in the case."

Evey watched in fascination as the reporter continued talking. A picture of the criminal that she had met twice a little more than twelve hours ago appeared on screen.

"…attacked a group of Fingermen, killing two. It is believed that they were escorting the clerk home. Police have not confirmed if she is a suspect or not."

She dropped the remote, the compartment holding the batteries breaking open and sending the twin pair skittering across the wooden floor.

"What? Not yet a suspect…?"

As she reached to turn up the volume she lost her appetite completely. In fact, she felt rather sick. But the story was ending and was replaced by a much less relevant one.

"In other news, it appears as though dandruff may be a sign of impotence in men…"

Not at all interested, Evey pressed the power button on the television and stared blankly at the black screen.

_A suspect? What do they mean, I'm not yet a suspect? _

She nibbled on a hangnail and started to pace through her kitchen. There had to be some error in the report. She had done nothing wrong, nothing at all. In fact, those Fingermen deserved to die, for what they were about to do to her.

"But I can't just go tell the police that…" She thought aloud, mulling over what would happen if she arrived at the station to convince them of her innocence. Imagining their reaction if she explained anything resembling the truth. Evey shuddered; she'd be Black Bagged for even insinuating that she had been helped by the murderer.

_No…can't go there. I've got to wait this out. Yes…just wait it out. _

Still shaken up, Evey settled into a chair and stared out the window, mulling over all the possible scenarios she could find herself in. None comforted or calmed her.

* * *

"I don't get it…how did anyone not pick up on this?" Dominic frowned at the several frozen screens. Each had a magnified face of a man dressed in black. All wearing masks that were identical.

"And what's with that bloody mask, anyway? I mean, why's he wearing it? Where did he get it?" Finch rubbed his eyes tiredly, as if each subsequent question were giving him a headache. But Dominic took no notice of the man's suffering and continued musing aloud.

"…I mean sure the Petty Crimes Division couldn't be expected to know this sort of thing, but you'd think someone would have made the connection. Especially that one a few weeks ago…the face was right there, right on screen…who is this guy?"

"Whoever he is…he's very good," came the exhaustion laden reply. Finch grabbed his coat off of the counter and stood up from his chair. His legs nearly gave out; he had been sitting so long. Blood rushed to his head and he had to steady himself before being able to move.

"Where you off to, it's been nearly a day since you've left here. You finally going home?"

Shaking his head, Finch mumbled something unintelligible. Deciding it best to follow his elder partner, Dominic grabbed his coat as well, exiting the untidy office and closing the door behind him.

* * *

Evey Hammond flipped idly through an old newspaper. The same boring job and the same boring routine awaited her every single night. Tonight's only difference, so far, was that there had been no masked intruders barging into the store—for which she was immensely grateful for. Every time the door had opened, she had instantly panicked--her eyes were wide and her expression was one of intense fear and paranoia. In fact, she suspected that a few customers had been disturbed by her odd and erratic behavior. One poor woman nearly had a heart attack while paying for some chips and salsa. Evey had noticed a man in a black shirt coming into the store and had screamed before ducking down below the counter, sending the woman's change flying in the air. Turned out it was only a teenage boy with dark clothing and an even darker personality—he had bought a pack of matches and a few razorblades.

Finally, around nine, the store was nearly empty and Evey was left with her thoughts. They were not at all relaxing, all possibly pleasant daydreams were overshadowed by her predictions of impending doom.

* * *

"Name's Evey Hammond," Dominic looked up from the handheld device that showed a picture of the stunning young woman. His gaze lingered a bit longer than necessary over the portrait and Finch cleared his throat to gain the younger man's attention. "Sorry," he mumbled, pressing another button and pulling up a file on her.

"What's her story?" Finch inquired. He was driving the patrol car slowly, seeming to be heading in no particular direction, and not in any hurry to arrive at the unknown destination.

"Well, let's see…her parents were activists. Black Bagged by Fingerman when she was young. She was sent to a reform school of sorts. Little brother apparently…died in St. Mary's…real winning family this one comes from, yeah?"

When Finch replied with silence, Dominic angrily sighed and turned to gaze out the dark window.

"You know, you've been about as talkative as a house plant since we were assigned this case. Not like you're Mr. Chatty anyway, but this is getting ridiculous. I'm not a mind reader, you know. No news of ESP potential."

"With all your complaining and nagging, you'd make a wonderful housewife someday, Dominic."

"You're the one with the bloody mood swings," Dominic muttered a few curses before crossing his arms and becoming equally silent. Brooding, he didn't speak the entirety of the car ride. But when Finch parked the vehicle in front of a dingy looking flat, curiosity got the better of him.

"Where, exactly, are we?"

"Hammond girl's apartment," Finch replied, grabbing his jacket and putting it on. "You would know that if you hadn't been ogling her picture," he remarked dryly as he left the car. A light drizzle had begun so the two men scuttled inside the building as to avoid getting too wet. Though, it might have been dryer outside than within the dank and mold infested structure. The walls had probably been white at some point, but they were now dappled with suspicious looking stains and holes, making it impossible to decipher what the original coating of paint had been. Ahead of the two detectives was a spiral staircase that seemed ready to collapse at any moment. The alternative to reaching the higher floor was to their left; a tiny metal elevator that resembled a dumbwaiter, only less sturdy.

Dominic hesitated for a moment as Finch headed for the stairs, ignoring the protesting creaks of the rickety structure with each step up. Soon, though, the younger policeman was following his partner, doing his best not to look over the banister and see how far above the ground he was. Just when he was positive that he had heard something snap and they were about to plummet to their deaths, Dominic breathed a sigh of relief. The staircase had ended.

The top floor stretched out into a square shaped hallway, with the apartments on the right side; away from the edge. There were other floors below, which could only reached by the elevator. But the building's impracticality was the least of its worries.

Finch led the way, not paying attention to the motif of strange colors forever engrained into the carpet. Dominic, however, grimaced at the collection of disgusting patterns. The entire building, in his opinion, was a breeding ground for every disease imaginable.

"Number 115," Finch murmured in front of the wooden door with the corresponding number attached to it. He knocked, but there wasn't any response. The door was locked, but a light shove with his shoulder was enough to send it swinging open.

"Why are we doing this, anyway?" Dominic quipped, as he stepped over a pile of dirty clothing.

"Just wanna see if there's any evidence…whether or not she knew this guy before the robbery."

"Ah."

The apartment wasn't anything out of the ordinary. Small and messy, it obviously belonged to someone too young to care about cleanliness. Nothing struck Finch as odd or out of place. Pictures of family members were absent, and there wasn't much food, but other than that this could be anybody's home.

"She's at her shift at the store ain't she? We could always go talk to her again," suggested Dominic, calling out from Evey's bedroom.

Nodding his head, Finch agreed. "Yeah, good idea. Just put whatever you took out of her drawer back."

As Finch exited he heard his younger partner curse, and shuffle around the room for a bit.

* * *

By 10:30, Evey had finally relaxed enough to move out from behind the pretend safety of her counter, and could stock some food items. The store was empty, and she had no doubt that it would remain that way until it was time to lock up. She had been diligently placing random items in their appropriate locations; a task that was boring, but simple enough to stay fairly alert.

Which is why she heard the sound of a car engine stopping right outside of the mart--even though it was down pouring. The rain had been mercilessly pounding on the metallic roof, sounding like a troupe of dancers had been prancing nonstop above her. But even through the racket, she noticed the dim headlights, and the sound of a car being turned off.

Adrenaline began pumping through her body. Grabbing the nearest object she could find—a can of industrial sized vegetable soup—Evey crouched behind an aisle, and waited for the intruder. If it was a customer, than she would just appear to be restocking items. And if it happened to be another criminal, well, they would soon be coming into contact with a rather large and heavy metallic tub filled with broth, celery, and carrots.

She tried to control her breathing as she pressed her back up against a shelf of potato chips and other assorted junk foods. Her eyes darted over to the entrance, two dark figures were approaching. Scooting closer, she turned to completely face the people entering. The sliding glass doors opened, and Evey was face to face with two strangers, adorned in all black, their faces hidden by their upturned jacket collars.

Perhaps had she not been attacked the night before, she wouldn't have been so afraid of the pair. But the combination of their late night arrival, and their attire frightened her. She was convinced that she was being robbed again.

It took all of her self-control not to scream. The tub of soup was heavy, and difficult to carry. But she didn't need to go far. The trespassers were right in front of her; all she had to do was stand up and come out from behind the aisle in order to get a clean shot.

Their voices were muffled, and one was about to remove his black overcoat. Evey knew she had to move fast if she wanted to injure one, and make a break for the door. If she simply ran for the exit, the could catch her. But if she severely wounded one of them, the other would probably stay and attempt to help his accomplice, giving her plenty of time to make a getaway.

She stood up to her full height, and lifted the can over her head. The pair had their backs to her, so she was able to approach them without being detected. As she closed the distance she involuntarily held her breath. She only had one chance to hit her mark, and she couldn't afford to miss. Just as one of the figures had taken off his black coat Evey held the giant, metal container over her head and brought it down upon his head, hard.

"Auuuugh!" A cross between a grunt and a scream of pain erupted from the man she had hit. Before she could even inspect her handiwork, the other man had removed a weapon and had turned to face her. Evey screamed and darted away, hoping that she could get out before he fired.

"Don't…" mumbled the injured man. His hand was pressed against his bleeding head. "Call for backup, but don't shoot her."

That was the last thing Evey heard before she took off into the night.


	4. Chapter 4: Voluntary Victim

**Author's Note:** Some of you may say that Evey, V, and Dominic are a bit out of character in this scene. In fact, I worried at first that I wasn't keeping everybody in character…then I realized that in some strange way I was.

As you read on, keep the following in mind, please. In the graphic novel, which is what this movie is based off of, Evey is a simpering sixteen-year-old who can barely fend for herself. While I didn't want to make her entirely helpless, I did want to add a bit of her original character and mix it with the way Natalie Portman portrays Evey. So while Evey is a strong girl, do remember, she is young, and she's gone through a lot these past couple of days. She's allowed to break down once in awhile!

V…in the movie and the novel he's a selfish man, let's be honest. He is concerned with his own agenda, liberating the people of England just happens to be a side bonus. Well, maybe that's not entirely true…but he **_DOES_** have his own plans and he is a bit self-centered. So while he may seem a bit of a jerk in these chapters, do recall that he is cruel (more so in Alan Moore's version than the movie version) and he is capable of being a real pain in the arse.

Dominic…okay Dominic has completely turned into comic relief. I made him more important this way, we're actually paying attention to him! And if you're the type who doesn't like humor, than…you're not a person I want reading my fanfic. So…go away!

And, as always…Thanks for the reviews! I'm a greedy little sucker, I love 'em!

**URGENT MESSAGE:** I realize I've made a TERRIBLE mistake. **Dominic** is the name of Finch's partner, not _Dennis_! Dennis is the name of the man who helps the pervert Lilliman…I'm so sorry for the mix-up…I'm going to go back and fix all errors. Ahh! so embarrassed I really am a V for Vendetta fan, I swear!

* * *

Sprinting through the darkness, Evey tore blindly through narrow alleyways and unfamiliar streets. She didn't bother to read any signs, or take note of where she was headed.  
Adrenaline coupled with her basic instincts fueled her. Her brain was numb and couldn't process anything; it simply ordered her to run. Evey was only too willing to comply with that command.

Perhaps she had been running for miles, or maybe it was only a few feet. Her concept of time and space had faded. It was as if she were trapped in some nightmare, where the road stretched on forever, and she was never going to reach a destination. Sirens were blaring in the distance, and Evey swore she could hear gunshots. What was real and what existed only in her imagination she could no longer tell. The only thing she did know was that she had to keep moving.

As she continued fleeing she noticed that the gunfire she thought she had heard wasn't in her head; in fact it was getting louder. Even with her presently diminished logic and reasoning skills, her heightened senses picked up on where the firing was occurring. She wasn't the one being shot at; the bullets were coming from someplace up ahead. There were voices overflowing with authoritative power, shouting above the din. Evey realized that they were most likely Fingerman. Panicking, she stopped running and ducked down behind a garbage dumpster.

She wanted to cry in frustration. There were only two possible ways for her to go. Straight ahead—eventually leading her into a crowd of police and a potentially dangerous situation—or turning around and heading back to the very place she was fleeing. Neither choice seemed viable or wise, so Evey remained crouched and attempted to figure out her next possible course of action. She wracked her brain, trying to calm herself enough to think rationally. But she had no such chance, because was interrupted by the sound of pounding feet, coming closer and closer towards her.

Her first inclination was to cower against the brick wall, in hopes that whoever was darting past would not see her. Yet, curiosity took hold of her, and she peeked around the giant metal dumpster. When she saw the rapidly approaching figure she wasn't sure whether she should laugh or scream. The smiling masked man from the other night, V, was headed straight for her.

He was moving rather quickly, occasionally turning to look behind him, no doubt to see if he was being pursued. In his left hand he gripped a bag—she guessed it was full of money—and in his right was a gun. Ordinarily Evey would have been intimidated by such a weapon, but the past two nights had changed her. She had just attempted to bash in a man's skull—whether or not she succeeded in that endeavor, she didn't care to know—had survived being robbed, and had nearly been attacked by Fingermen, all within 48 hours. Violence was no longer a completely foreign concept to the young woman.

Maybe she felt as though she owed this man for saving her from being raped. Or, perhaps she felt an odd connection to him, as they were both fleeing for their lives. Whatever motivated her, she did not ever learn. Before she realized what she was doing, she had stood up, grabbed the dark figure, and pulled him down to the ground with her. He wasn't particularly large, so it wasn't difficult to drag him back into the shadows, and he didn't struggle or attempt to break away from his captor. Evey could feel him stiffen against her, ready to attack if he thought he was in any danger.

The pair were completely concealed in their hiding place; even so Evey ducked her face in the folds of the man's black cape and kept her arms around his midsection. She did her best not to tremble against him as she heard a group rapidly coming closer to their hiding spot. But the troupe of what she assumed to be police ran right past them, never bothering to inspect the alleyway.

Evey waited for a good minute before relaxing her grip on the man's waist. Her arms slackened and she breathed a huge sigh of relief. V didn't move right away. He simply remained motionless in front of her, unsure as to what to do. Finally, after what seemed like ages, he got to his feet, never once turning to face Evey.

"Aren't you going to at least say thank you?" Evey burst out, unable to hide her frustration at his lack of gratitude. She nearly shook from anger, and her fists clenched into tight balls at her sides.

It had been too dark in the concealed space to see who his rescuer of sorts had been—but the voice gave her away. He turned, slowly, as if expecting this all to be some sort of dream that he would wake up from at any moment.

"You?" The simple question spoke volumes. Within that syllable lied a mixture of conflicting emotions and feelings. There was surprise, a palpable sense of disbelief, and possibly a hint of anger.

"Yes, it's me," Evey confirmed, her voice rising in annoyance. "The least you could do is thank me for saving your life."

V said nothing. He may have nodded—Evey wasn't sure—and then he turned away.

"Where are you going!" She shouted, indignant. He had begun to head in the opposite direction, not even checking to see if she was alright.

"I am returning to my home, Evey, and I highly suggest that you do the same."

"Home? I can't go home! I don't even know where I am!" She sounded like an irritated child, about to throw a temper tantrum. V sighed in obvious exasperation.

"May I inquire as to why you are even out this late, anyway?"

"Someone came into the store…two actually…I got scared…" Evey offered no further explanation, but V had begun to piece her story together. He turned sharply and faced her. Like a distrustful parent interrogating an unruly teenager, V posed a question that left no room for debate.

"Did you kill anyone?"

"I…I don't know…" Evey admitted hopelessly. Suddenly the magnitude of what she'd done to the stranger in the store sunk in. Who had she attacked? Was it really a criminal? Had she murdered someone?

"Evey, I either suggest you turn yourself in and claim paranoia, or else find a place to hide. Whatever you decide, do it quickly…because I suspect whomever you attacked was a police officer."

At that, Evey gasped. Her knees shook and she very nearly collapsed onto the pavement below her.

"No…it can't be…"

"They were probably coming to ask you a few questions," V rationalized in a voice of painful nonchalance, "that or they had come to arrest you. In which case, your fate is already sealed."

At the word 'arrest' Evey felt tears burning in her eyes. She tried to wipe them away, but soon she was quietly sobbing.

"T-they're g-gonna kill me." She started to cry even harder, reminding V that she was truly just a child in many ways. He even felt a twinge of pity.

"Evey," he came close to her, putting a hand on her shoulder, "just go to the police and tell them what happened," he quietly insisted. "I'm sure everything will be taken into consideration."

Evey rubbed her eyes with her hands and sniffled a bit. Just as V was about to leave her, she raised her head up.

"Take me with you," she pleaded, her eyes wide and hopeful. "I won't get in your way I swear."

"No," came the flat response. He removed his hand and started to turn away. But Evey grabbed his shoulder and tugged.

"I saved you!" She screeched. "If it wasn't for me you'd be caught or dead or worse. I have nowhere else to go," she mumbled hopelessly. "Please…I won't get in the way," she repeated.

Conflicted, V gazed down the alleyway. He could pull away from her feeble grip—he could walk away and never look back. If he ran, she'd never be able catch up to him. But something about her pathetic situation pulled at his heartstrings, what little he had. She had a point—she did prevent him from being in a potentially threatening situation. And while he knew he wouldn't have been in too much danger of being caught, she had made escaping a much easier process.

He turned again to face her and shrugged. "As you wish."

And saying that he brought two of his fingers behind her head, jabbing a sensitive pressure point, and causing her to black out. Before she fell he caught her in his arms, and began to briskly walk out of the alley.

* * *

"What kind of person attacks a cop with a can of soup?" Dominic pondered aloud. His bandaged partner glared at him. Not only was he afflicted with a massive headache, but now he was being forced to speak with Chancellor Sutler this afternoon—along with the rest of the major Party members, about the current fiasco with the masked man. Apparently last night he had killed three more Fingermen, and had stolen over seven thousand euros from a bank vault. Things were getting serious, and this man had to be caught. 

"I mean, what's next, frozen peas?"

"Dominic, I don't think our main concern is what food item I'll be hit with next," reprimanded Finch.

"Alright, but I'm just saying…gotta think about the next logical step…"

Finch shook his head and reached into his drawer from some aspirin. Between being attacked by clerks—brandishing gallon tubs of soup—and dealing with an eccentric, panty stealing partner, he was positive that he was a candidate for early retirement. He grimaced at the wall clock, in a few hours he would have to speak with Sutler and the other prominent Party members of England. And so far all he could offer them was that they had some lunatic in a Guy Fawkes mask who seemed to enjoy robbing banks and had acquired an accomplice overnight. Though, Finch was convinced that the girl, Evey Hammond, hadn't intended to work alongside this criminal. In fact, he was convinced that she hadn't meant to attack him. He assumed that she had been frightened by the sudden intrusion at such a late hour, especially because they had both been adorned in black overcoats with their faces shielded away from her. She had simply reacted out of blind panic.

Unfortunately for her, video surveillance recovered from an alley in close proximity to where the robbery occurred revealed that had helped Evey hide the criminal from police. As if that weren't bad enough, the recording had also shown that the girl had apparently argued with the man for some time, and was then knocked out and carried away by him. If that didn't at least land her in jail, Finch would have eaten his own shoe.

"Why do you think she hit you, anyway?"

"She was scared."

"Of what? We hadn't even done anything."

"Think about it Dominic, you're alone in a store, it's dark outside. You've been robbed the night before, you're scared outta your wits. Then, the following night two strangers barge in. Can't see their faces, and all their wearing is long, black coats…how would you react?"

"Sounds exactly like a porno I rented the other night."

"Idiot," Finch muttered before returning his full attention to his computer.

* * *

When Evey awoke in an unfamiliar place, her first inclination was to panic. She sat up in the strange, yet extremely comfortable bed and gave a cursory inspection to her surroundings. Around her were piles of books—mountains actually. They rose far above her head, and looked as though they could topple and bury her forever at any moment. Taking great care not to knock into any of them, she slid off of the plush mattress. Her bare feet connected with cold stone and she shivered a bit.

_How long have I been asleep?_

All she could recall was being knocked out by V. Now she understood why; he hadn't wanted her to see where they were going. Or maybe he hadn't wanted her to slow him down. Whatever the reason, she wasn't too inclined to complain, he had given into her request after all. And it would do no good to upset her fairly unwilling host by mentioning one questionable act.

_I have a place to now, a safe place…even though it's with a criminal it's better than being in jail._

Deciding to explore a bit, she exited the room and found herself standing in a larger room with high, arched ceilings. Contained within the room was a plethora of items, the likes of which Evey had never seen before. There were paintings, sculptures, tapestries, and still more books. She passed a perfectly polished piano, and had to battle the urge to not touch the keys.

Just as she was about to pass out of the circular room she noticed a strange box shoved to the wall's side. It was bright and emanated a soft, pinkish light, and Evey couldn't help but get closer. She was fascinated; the box came up to below her chest, and had glass paneling so she could peer into the machine's insides. Contained within it were various names of songs, and they were labeled with a combination of letters and numbers. It was then that she observed that in front of the bizarre box were a set of buttons that corresponded to these labels.

She tentatively reached a finger outwards, prepared to randomly push some to see if music would indeed play. But before she was able to, she was startled by a noise coming from behind her.

Whipping around quickly, like a guilty child caught in an act of mischief, Evey came face to face with V, and his permanently grinning face.

"You scared me," she remarked, pressing her hand to her chest and catching her breath. Staring at the smiling mask she found herself wondering what sort of expression was upon V's face at this time. Was he amused by her reaction? Was he annoyed because she was touching the strange contraption?

"I see you've found my jukebox," he offered as a reply. Stepping towards her, he proceeded to press a larger button, away from the marked ones. Each time the button was pressed, the song choices changed—Evey tried not to reveal her fascination. He stopped after a few pushes, and indicated one of the songs.

"That one happens to be my favorite."

"Cry me a River?" Evey asked, peering through the glass paneling. Before she even allowed V to respond she posed another question, "Where did you get all of this stuff?"

"Oh…here and there…" The evasive answer aroused her suspicions.

"Did you steal it?"

"Would it surprise you if I answered in the affirmative?"

V's casual shrug and air of utter nonchalance infuriated her. She crossed her arms and frowned. "Why can't you just tell the truth? Is that really so difficult?"

"'The pure and simple truth is rarely pure and never simple.' I assume you've never heard of Oscar Wilde?"

"No, I haven't." Evey assured him, the irritation still present in her tone, "is he a friend of yours?"

Sighing V shook his head, as if to tell her to disregard his previous question.

"If you're hungry I have some food, I suppose you'll be able to find something suitable to your tastes."

Evey nodded and allowed V to lead the way. The kitchen he had was amazing; full of more instruments than she had ever seen. And when he opened the refrigerator, Evey nearly gasped. Never before had she seen so much food. One person could live off of the refrigerator's contents for months.

"Anything in particular you prefer?"

A bit taken aback by the question Evey fumbled and stuttered for a few moments. Taking note of this, V cleared his throat and made an offer.

"If you don't mind my presumption, you seem a bit undecided. May I allow this opportunity to show off my culinary skills?"

Dumbfounded—and still in awe at all the choices she had been given—she simply nodded.

"Ah, excellent," V clapped his hands in restrained glee and motioned towards the small table that sat in a lonely corner. "Have a seat, mademoiselle, your chef will prepare something exquisite beyond your wildest fantasies."

She made her way to the wooden table, her eyes never leaving the now exuberant man. He tied a pink apron around his waist and then searched through a drawer, pulling out to equally pink oven mitts. The inquiry burst out of Evey's mouth before she realized what she was saying.

"V…are you gay?"


	5. Chapter 5: Veracity

**Author's Note:** Firstly, sorry for the delay in updating. I had an ear infection and after I recovered, turns out there's a good chance I have mono. So, needless to say it's been hard keeping up with school work AND writing the new chapter. But, no matter I have done it!

**Marie Phantom:** No, do not fear, that was only a joke. Though, keep this in mind. V was sent to Larkhill for SOME reason, was he not…and gays WERE sent there…hmmm…interesting, huh?

**Starlette Fallon: **Thanks for that! I am trying to write with a bit of humor. Usually I am into the darker stuff, so I figured, a little light laughter couldn't hurt much. Feel free to be one of the people giving constructive criticism. I love it!

**Jinexh: **That line happens to be a favorite among many of my friends who read this. Glad you're liking it, despite the AU twist.

**Everyone else:** Thanks for reviewing and reading!

* * *

Finch absolutely detested these little 'get-togethers' headed by Chancellor Sutler. The Party leader never personally attended these meetings, but he was always present on a giant projection screen, his wrinkled and withered face magnified for all to see. He looked ancient, and yet he possessed a certain amount of strength—perhaps because a mere blink of his eye could end a man's life if he willed it. Adam Sutler was the most powerful man in England, perhaps the world, and he was as unmerciful and relentless as any tyrant could be. He was one man Finch would be content never to meet face to face.

"I will not tolerate any more of this!" Wishing he had brought his aspirin with him, Finch wondered why every word out of the Chancellor's mouth had to be shouted. He spoke as though every phrase was a dire emergency, nothing could ever be conveyed in a normal voice. No, all that the Chancellor said was full of urgency, whether it was justified or not.

"Mr. Finch!" Barked the irate Party leader, "I want answers and I want them now!"

Finch shifted in his chair, trying not to appear too uncomfortable. He noticed Creedy smirking from his position and Dascomb fiddling with a pen. So long as they weren't being interrogated, they could breathe a sigh of relief and watch their peer squirm under the harsh and pitiless gaze of Adam Sutler.

While Dascomb did not bother him—in fact Finch thought he was a rather clever man with a mild sense of humor—he loathed Creedy. In Finch's mind, Creedy was the epitome of what was wrong with the Party. He was much like Sutler, only not quite as dim-witted. And that worried Finch—because Sutler sometimes had no real idea the damage and harm he was doing, while Creedy was acutely aware of all that was happening, and he enjoyed every second of it. To him, upholding the most unjust of laws and arresting practically innocent people gave him inexplicable joy. Exercising power and controlling the masses by way of fear excited him.

"Well, no strong leads yet, Chancellor, but we're working on things as best we can." Trying not to appear completely useless he cleared his throat and shuffled a few papers in front of him. "To reiterate what Mr. Dascomb said, the mask makes retinal scans impossible…" He trailed off then, allowing Sutler to regain control of the conversation.

"Mr. Finch, your findings are absolutely pathetic. I will not stand for this! I expect arrests to be made, and I expect them to happen soon." The Chancellor's eyes narrowed to two black slits and his lips curled back into a snarl. He no longer looked human. Adam Sutler had become a mindless beast, intent on pursuing his prey. Nothing would stop him from this endeavor.

"Gentlemen, we cannot allow this sort of thing to happen. We cannot allow common criminals to rule England. We must stop this problem before it gets out of hand. We must contain this madman before he does something drastic." At this point Finch tuned out. Another one of Sutler's speeches; where he emphasized unity and the strength that came of it. A chorus of 'we', 'us', and 'together' all shoved into a mindless miasma and meant to motivate.

"…and as always, England Prevails!"

Finch tried not to yawn as he echoed the tired statement along with the other men.

* * *

_That's funny…_ Evey scratched her head and frowned. V had given her spare clothes to borrow (where he had acquired a collection of ladies clothing, she had not asked), and she had wanted to remove her wallet out of her old pair of pants. A cursory inspection had assured her that her meager amount of money remained intact, yet she had noticed that the access card to the register was missing. It was a card issued to all the employees at the store; and it allowed them at any time to open the cash register and hidden safe without having to enter any code or without punching in a purchase.

She had been almost positive that it had been in her wallet the night she had taken off with V, and yet she could not find it, though she had been searching for awhile.

_Maybe I left it at the counter?_

Evey nodded her head, reassuring herself. That had to be the explanation. Slightly more at ease, she left the tiny room that she had come to call her own, and wandered about the "Shadow Gallery"—as V had dubbed his home. She had grown fond of her new, unorthodox living conditions. The various pieces of artwork fascinated her, and the sculptures that were practically in every corner of the room amused her. But her most favorite item of all was by far the juke box.

Every time she passed by it, she was overcome with a longing to press its buttons, and hear its music. Since V had played that one song for her, the little box had sat silent and neglected in the shadows. The room felt dead and hollow without a melody floating throughout it, and Evey tried to avoid staying within it too long. She was afraid to touch anything that V owned; for fear of breaking it or angering him. V had nearly slapped her hand when she had reached out to touch a portrait of a stern looking woman. When she explained that she had only wanted to trace her face, and she hadn't meant to defile the picture V had sharply scolded her.

"These are not mere trinkets meant to be poked and prodded, these are works of art that are designed to be admired and respected."

Evey was surprised at how deeply V had been offended by her actions. The fact that he had the capacity to care about something shocked the young woman. She had always assumed him to be a callous sort of person. But the passion in his voice when he commanded her to never touch the paintings, the way his hand has reached out to stop her had proven her beliefs false. V cared about culture and the past. In fact, Evey was convinced his life of crime served more purpose than just as a way to make enough money to sustain himself. His lifestyle proved that he truly did not need money in order to survive. Evey believed that this was his own small way of rebelling against the government.

The petty acts of theft had transformed into something much more as of late. V was all over the news as more and more crimes had been linked to him. Every day as she watched the TV—V often sitting beside her, always reading some sort of book—there were mentions of the masked criminal. V never even looked up from the page but she could see his body tense up, see his hands grip the spine of the book a bit more tightly.

This is what he wanted, that much Evey could tell. But what bothered her most was that V was content to only stir things up a little. She knew if he wanted to, he had the skill and the cunning to probably cause a lot more trouble. V was brilliant, if not slightly eccentric, and very well spoken. He could finagle his way into and out of any situation he wanted to if he just didn't wear that mask and dressed in normal clothing. Not that Evey had often entertained thoughts of rebellion against her government before—but all the free time she had within the Shadow Gallery, and V's taciturn personality tended to allow her much free time. And in that span of time her mind came up with various plans and ideas. Evey enjoyed daydreaming, and being in this new home certainly facilitated that hobby.

Her train of thought came to an abrupt halt when she realized that V was nowhere to be found. Evey had wandered through all of the rooms, and had yet to bump into him. Usually he could be found in one of two places; perched on his couch, reading, or he was at his grand piano, making up songs or playing from sheet music.

"V? Where are you?" The words bounced off of the stone walls and eventually melted into the silence. Increasingly uncomfortable with the knowledge that she might be alone, Evey called out his name again. There was no response.

"V…if you're in here this isn't funny!" She reprimanded as she wandered into the kitchen. It was then that she noticed a piece of paper attached to the fridge. Lifting off the magnet that held it in place, Evey scanned the handwritten note. The message V had written was vague, saying that he would be absent for most of the night, and telling her not to wait up for him.

Shrugging, Evey replaced the note back onto the refrigerator and sauntered out of the kitchen.

_Maybe there's something worth reading here…_

_

* * *

_

There was a gasp, followed by a deep moan. It penetrated into Evey's half-materialized dream and awoke her instantly. She was curled up on her bed with the book "Pride and Prejudice" still clasped in her right hand. While the book had been fascinating, she had eventually succumbed to the haze of drowsiness surrounding her. But now she was alert and awake. Sitting up, she strained to hear more sounds. When she heard a scream, she panicked. She leapt off of the bed and flew down the hallway, her feet barely touching the ground as she sprinted towards the sounds.

_Is V hurt? Is there something wrong? _

Evey heard the noises growing in volume and realized that they were coming from the room containing V's couch and the television. Without any concern for her own safety she darted around the corner and burst into the room.

When she saw what the source of all the noises were, she put her hand to her mouth and gasped. V immediately turned, and cleared his throat in an embarrassed manner when he saw Evey.

"Oh…um…I hope I didn't disturb you…" V stared at Evey, but noticed she was busy staring at the TV screen.

"What are you watching?" She asked, confusion and disgust evident in her voice.

"The Cunt of Monte Cristo," he explained, "one of the greatest pornographic films of all time."

Evey grimaced as she watched a young woman, wearing very little clothing, managed to get one of her legs behind her head. "Why would you watch this?"

V one hand to his chin, stroking it as if he were pondering one of life's greatest questions. "I suppose I am merely showing my appreciation and fascination of the human body. Though, I can see that you are not as intriguged as I...perhaps you'd like to see the original film; The _Count_ of Monte Cristo?"

"Does it have any of that," she indicated the girl, now getting the second leg behind her head, and licking her lips in what she guessed was supposed to be a seductive way, "in it?"

V turned back to the movie currently playing. "Ah. No…not in the slightest."

"Alright," Evey responded, hesitantly. She plopped down on the opposite end of the sofa, while V retrieved the proper film.

* * *

"You find your own tree!" V enthusiastically repeated the line. Mercedes nestled into the arms of Edmond Dantes, and the movie came to an end.

V turned and noticed that Evey was smiling in a sad sort of way.

"Did you like it?" He asked, tilting his head to fully face her.

"Yeah…but I felt bad for Mercedes."

"Why?" V asked, not in a challenging way, but because he was genuinely curious.

"Because he never cared about her, all he wanted was revenge."

"Ah…" V said nothing more, but Evey could have sworn she sensed that he was disappointed in her. As if he had expected her to understand the plight of Edmond Dantes. He turned off the movie, and was about to turn off the TV as well when Evey noticed a news interview.

"Wait," she commanded. V didn't protest, though he knew what this broadcast was about. Sighing a little, he leaned back, waiting to see what Evey's reaction would be.

"…another robbery occurred tonight, shortly after midnight. The masked criminal stole an entire register's worth as well as all the money kept in a special safe, which could only be accessed by employees…"

Upon hearing this, Evey turned her head slightly, her eyes still on the program.

"V…I couldn't find my access card to the store tonight…you didn't take it, did you?"

"Would you prefer a lie, or the truth?"

At that comment, Evey had to resist the urge to slap the masked man. Instead, she stood up, her fists clenched at her sides, and her face turned toward him.

"V! That was my access card, you had no right to take it," she lectured him.

"Evey, my dear," the sarcasm that dripped from each syllable stung Evey, but she maintained her composure as he continued. "I am a criminal, a thief, a villain, as I once told you. I have no obligation to you, or to anyone else. My loyalties lie only with myself. You should be grateful I even took you in."

The harshness of this reminder caused tears to form at Evey's eyes. Frustration scalded her as it washed over her entire body.

"Grateful! Grateful that you robbed me? That you ruined my entire life? I should be **grateful?**" She spun away from him, unable to look at him any longer. "You know what you are, do you?"

When V gave no reply—he simply remained seated—Evey turned back around and began to yell even louder.

"You're a coward, V, that's what you are!" She spat the words at him, but when they didn't seem to affect him, she grew more agitated. Regressing to the way a child would behave, she continued to search for words that would irk him, anything to make him react. She wanted to make him mad, or at the very least, perturbed in some way.

"You're smart, and, and, sneaky, and you could actually do something about the way things are if you wanted to. But…but…all you do is steal. And you think that's so great…well…it isn't. Nobody will remember you a year or two from now. You'll be forgotten. Until you die, alone, and without anything to say for it."

Her rant was not quite what she had hoped it to be, but her emotions prevented her from properly articulating her thoughts. But the message within the muddled and stuttered phrases was clear enough to V. He put his hands on his knees and gradually came to a full standing position. Crossing the short distance between himself and Evey, he reached out a hand, to grab her chin and tilt it upwards towards him.

She panicked as the hand came towards her, flinching and moving away from him. V's outstretched hand went slack, and he allowed it to drop to his side. The silence grew thick, choking them both of the words they had planned to say. Finally, Evey simply walked out of the room. V didn't stop her. He stood in the same place until he heard her door quietly close, and heard the click of it locking.


	6. Chapter 6: Vacillation

**Author's Note: **Sorry for the long delay. Won't happen again. Enjoy the update!

* * *

"You sure it was her card he used?" Finch swiveled in his chair to face Dominic. In annoyance, the younger officer slapped down the stack of papers he was holding, and sighed.

"For the tenth time, yes, it was her access card that he used to steal the money. I don't see why you have to keep asking me this."

Finch wasn't sure at first whether he should voice aloud his personal opinion. It went against what common sense would indicate, and what anyone involved in this case would willingly believe. Despite that, Finch decided to speak his mind,

"I don't think she gave it to him."

"Gave what to him?" Dominic asked, not really paying attention. "The card?"

"Yeah…I don't think she gave it to him. In fact, I think he took it from her, and she didn't even know about it."

Finch faced away from his partner, deep in thought. But simply turning away from the now frustrated Dominic did not help him evade the barrage of exasperated comments.

"Have you lost it? She went with him, wasn't like he kidnapped her. And now you're telling me that maybe she had nothing to do with the robbery?" He kicked a garbage can in front of him, not hard enough to send it flying, but with enough strength to tip it over. A few papers scattered across the floor, and Dominic made no move to pick them up. He took a few breaths, aware that he was making a bit of a scene, and lowered his voice.

"Just…think about what you're saying, sir. It isn't logical."

Finch merely grunted, nodding his head a little. He stared at a whiteboard in front of him, where he had begun to construct a crime scene map. The criminal remained in the center of the board, with a few things written around him. An arrow from him pointed directly to Evey Hammond, without the tiniest hint of a squiggle; as if in an attempt to condemn her actions and make her innocence a notion beyond the realm of possibility. But beyond the two faces and only a tenuous arrow connecting them, the board was hopelessly clear and unmarred by marker. As Finch studied the board ahead of him, Dominic began printing something off of his computer.

"What the…?" Perplexed, Dominic snatched the paper off of the printer's tray, and examined it closely, as if hoping he had made some horrible mistake and at any minute the contents would shift to something else.

"What is it?" Finch growled, not liking disturbances while he was so deep in thought.

Deciding that the contents upon the paper would not be changing anytime soon, Dominic didn't say a word; he merely shoved the paper into Finch's line of view.

It took a few seconds for Finch to realize what was so special about the paper. At first, all he could tell was that it was a copy of a map highlighting all stores the criminal had stolen from. But soon, Finch recognized that there was something odd about the stores that had been marked. It was a feeling synonymous with suddenly understanding a math problem that has been slaved over for many hours with no success. And then quite abruptly, one sees the now simple approach to take, and the answer is abundantly clear.

"I didn't believe it at first, I mean, why would he…"

Dominic's words were lost to Finch after that point. Like a man possessed he walked towards the board, and taped the new evidence to it. He grabbed a red marker, and beside the smiling masked man's face he gave him a codename—one that paralleled the shape he had made when carefully selecting which stores to steal from. It was no coincidence that they were in the shape of a

"V", the handwriting was scrawled with a new intensity, no longer uniform and regimented.

* * *

A period of prolonged silence had stretched between the two since the unfortunate encounter after watching The Count of Monte Cristo. V had taken to reading; he was always perched upon some chair or sofa, his white and shiny nose buried among the pages. This habit annoyed Evey, but she refused to reveal her feelings. She wandered from room to room—when she wasn't sulking behind her closed door—only when she assumed V wasn't aware of her presence. They had regressed to the way two feuding high school girls would act—ignoring one another, waiting for the other to deliver an apology and an admittance of wrongdoing.

But one day turned into three, and it became apparent to Evey that V would not be approaching her. He was content in being left alone, and though he was aware of a presence that ate his food and slept in one of his rooms, it didn't bother him. So on the eve of the third day, she had devised a plan.

Her only living relative, Gordon had met her for lunch several months ago. While she had been aware of his existence for quite some time, she had never been close to him. But one day, she had bumped into him while walking back from the grocery store. The two had collided, Evey's bag of food dropping out of her hands and crashing onto the pavement. Apologetic, Gordon had helped her collect the scattered items, and while he had been replacing them in the brown paper bag, they had locked eyes for a moment.

"Evey? Is that you?" She remembered her initial fright as he had peered at her closely. When he realized that she had no idea who he was, he frowned in a sad sort of way.

"It's me, Gordon…your cousin." He reminded her, hoping that she would recognize him. "Don't you remember?"

She had vaguely recalled meeting him a few times, the most recent when she was a teenager, he a young man in his mid twenties. They had chatted on the street corner for a bit—not too long because Gordon had to return to work. He was famous, or at least he was on TV—she rarely watched TV, so she didn't know. Before she could question him too much, he had scrawled his address on a scrap of paper, tucking it into her hand along with the insistence that she come see him if she ever needed anything. While at the time she had no intention of ever taking him up on his offer, circumstances had changed. And he had said "anything". With nowhere else to go, Evey decided that she would have to plead her cousin to harbor her—a criminal. The worst possible scenario would end with her being captured by Fingermen. And the alternative, remaining with V, didn't seem much better.

So Evey prepared herself in front of her mirror as an actress would. She practiced the facial expression that would best convey a deep level of humility and embarrassment—as though she was apologetic for having been so wrong. It took many different combinations of eyebrow quirks and lip pouts but eventually she was convinced she looked as humbled as she ever would.

With the "I'm sorry" face frozen in place, she trained her eyes downwards, and approached V. He was perched upon the same couch they had argued upon, engrossed in yet another book. She was positive that he knew all along that she was getting close to him, but his attention remained fully on the story. Deciding that a blatant interruption would be rude—and rudeness in any form would kill her "I'm trying to be nice and I was wrong" cover—she cleared her throat.

"What are you reading?"

V sighed tiredly, in a way that suggested he knew that whatever Evey had to say would be laced in dishonesty and dripping with ulterior motives. But if these were his thoughts, he did not say anything to reveal them.

"Macbeth; a tragic story of what often happens to those in power or influenced by the promise of it."

Evey could not help but smile; he was being talkative. V was rarely ever taciturn, and had he been that would have worried her.

"What happens?" She asked.

"They become corrupt."

"Oh…" Evey clasped her hands behind her back, and made herself a more prominent figure in V's line of sight. She timidly leaned towards him.

"V…I just wanted to apologize…for how I acted…it was wrong…"

She paused, waiting for him to reply. But he was now silent. Desperately, Evey hurried to finish her speech, not wanting to annoy him.

"And, if there's anything at all I can do to help you…even stealing…I'll do it."

Satisfied that her point had been delivered flawlessly, she waited for a response from V. Moments stretched until a full minute passed, with no words exchanged. Evey wanted to speak, to fill the gap with any sort of noise. But she restrained herself.

_I have to wait…he's testing me…I have to be patient._

As if he could read her mind, V closed the book and placed it upon his lap.

"I shall keep your gracious and kind offer in mind, Evey. And I accept your apology."

Evey nodded her head, biting her lip to prevent herself from demanding an apology in return. Self-restraint was crucial, she had to play her part, the part that would allow her to escape. Turning away from V, she strode out of the room before she could no longer contain herself.

She never saw him sigh, nor did she see the slight shake of his head that emanated disappointment.

* * *

Lewis Prothero had an immense headache, one that required more than a simple over-the-counter remedy. The jackhammer rattling his brains demanded something of a behemoth medicine, a juggernaut of the drug world. And when he had opened his cabinet that contained a rainbow of various pills, he had been horribly annoyed when he noticed his bottle of migraine medicine displayed an absence of color. He grabbed the offending empty container and threw it at the hard tile beneath him. It bounced away, as if trying to put distance between itself and the irate man.

Prothero rubbed his eyes tiredly. He needed sleep, or else his bags would be horrible for tomorrow's shoot. And he didn't care what sort of miracle makeup staff he had, bags were bags and it was impossible to fully conceal them. But until he could dull the throbbing ache in his head, he would not be able to rest. Grumbling to himself, he reached for his jacket, putting it on and then as an afterthought, dug around in one of the pockets. He extracted a thick brown wallet, and from it, removed a tiny white card.

The sight of this rectangular piece of paper relaxed him slightly. In his meaty fist was his access to any and all medications currently manufactured in England. Some were even unavailable to the regular public. But prominent Party members such as Lewis weren't part of the masses of people who were constantly restricted and denied basic needs. At his fingertips lay infinite possibilities; as much food as he desired, whatever medications he wanted, he could have it all so long as he carried that little white card with him.

Smirking in a self-satisfied and superior way, Prothero tucked the card back into his wallet, and returned it to the pocket it had originally been nestled in. He reached for his car keys and headed out into the dreary night.

The pharmacy wasn't crowded—it was dangerously close to curfew. Prothero strode into the store, an air of superiority palpable in his presence. He didn't bother browsing, what he required was behind the counter. With no regard for his surroundings, he made a beeline for the back of the store, nearly knocking over an elderly woman in his hurry. The poor woman was hunched over, her black shawl drawn tightly around her, and she grunted slightly at the push.

Prothero reached the counter in a surprisingly short amount of time for a man of his stature. He slammed a pudgy fist on the counter, an unnecessary gesture that made the clerk slightly uncomfortable.

"Mr. Prothero," the young man presumed in a meek tone, "may I help you?"

"Yes, in fact you can, that's why I'm standing here in front of you, waiting for some assistance." The impatience only served to make the young man behind the counter more nervous, and he wrung his hands in front of himself.

"Er, well, Mr. Prothero, if you'll just tell me what you'd like I'm sure I can--"

Prothero slapped the ID card down on the table—which at this point was a completely unnecessary gesture, but he did so anyway. "I don't care for your banter, just get me a fucking prescription."

"A-alright Mr. Prothero, I'll pull up your file, and just make sure everything's in order."

The clerk turned away, Prothero's ID card in hand, and headed for a computer in the far corner. He began to rapidly type away, and Prothero leaned on the counter, sighing in irritation. But his brooding was interrupted by a shrill scream—one that only added to the massive pain in his head—and he turned angrily at the source of the vile noise. Evey had sprinted into the store, her shirt torn and her hair disheveled. What little customers were present turned in confusion, curious about the source of the noise, but showing no genuine concern.

"There's a crazy man out there! He's trying to kill me! Please, somebody help me!" She collapsed onto the ground, sinking to her knees and then falling onto her side. Nobody made a move to assist her, instead the people chose to stare at the doors, waiting for the supposed maniac to come running in. But a few moments passed, and no one entered the store. The clerk behind the counter was more perturbed than ever. From his computer he watched the scene unfold; his widened eyelids expanded to a dangerous amount, as if his eyeballs were attempting to escape from their sockets. This delay only served to infuriate Prothero.

"Will you fucking hurry--" The clerk stifled a cry and Prothero followed the path of his bug eyes. Turning around, the rotund man only saw a smiling white face, inches from his own. It took him several seconds to realize that this face was not only the one that had been broadcast on the news as the famed V terrorist, but it was also the same old woman he had pushed over earlier.

"You should really learn to respect your elders, Lewis…that's your name isn't it?"

Prothero couldn't even stutter a reply. He only managed half of a curse before a cold, metallic angel of death came into contact with his forehead. It's silver fingertip kissed his flesh for less than a second, before piercing right through his head. With a decisive thump, the body fell onto its knees, before tilting to itself and collapsing with a massive crash onto the ground.

V didn't pay attention to his victim, he simply pointed the gun in the direction of the frightened clerk; and gave orders for him to get the money out of the cashbox, and put it into a bag. The nervous young man's hands shook, but he complied with the polite yet commanding voice. While the gun did nothing to soothe his nerves, the absence of the belligerent Prothero seemed to calm him slightly.

After the transaction was complete; the man handing V the bag overflowing with money, V nodded his head in appreciation, before turning to face the scattered customers of the store. He gave a slight bow in apology before speaking.

"I am sorry to have disturbed your evening, please allow me to take this opportunity to genuinely apologize. I hope you will all have a safe journey home, but now I must ask you all to depart."

The collective group did not need to be told twice, and soon everyone had filed out of the small drugstore.

"Does that include-"

"Yes, Mr. Michaels, you too should leave."

Stunned the clerk opened his mouth, but V anticipated his question.

"Your nametage."

"Ah…alright…sorry" The clerk mumbled apologies profusely as he moved from behind the counter. He sidestepped around the pile of flesh that had been Prothero, and then tiptoed around V. As he exited the building, he turned, his eyes meek and questioning.

"Erm…if it's not too much trouble…would you mind locking up?"

"Of course," V replied.

"Oh, alright then…key's in the third drawer from the right, under the spare paperclips….G'night."

He waited until he was positive that the store was devoid of all persons, then he called out to Evey.

"You're still in here, I hope."

Evey had concealed herself behind a table displaying makeup. She hadn't watched the scene unfold because she had been debating whether or not to make a breakaway. Her reason for coming with V had been to escape, and yet she had remained. When the perfect opportunity had been handed to her, when all she had to do was follow the small crowd of people leaving the store, she hadn't budged. As of this moment, her actions dictated that she would remain with V for the time being, and hiding would be futile.

"Yeah," she replied, standing up from behind the cosmetics.

"Good, we need to leave. There'll be police any minute now."

A siren wailed in the far off distance, but Evey did not hear it. Her eyes remained trained on the body lying on the floor that she has just caught sight of, particularly on the pool of blood that had formed by his head. She knew who that was, she has convinced she had seen him before. The body, the hair, it was all so familiar.

Suddenly, Evey knew exactly who V had shot. She ran past V to the opposite end of the store.

"Oh my God." Evey stared down in shock at the pile of what was once a living person. Dropping to her knees, she muttered a string of words so harsh that V turned his head toward her. She took no notice of her accomplice, though. All of her attention was focused on the corpse. Hands trembling, and lip quivering, Evey reached out and tentatively grasped the fallen man's jacket, digging her nails into the material. She hesitated for a moment, before quickly jerking the coat toward her, causing the man's head to loll over. His lifeless eyes stared into space and Evey covered her mouth—in an attempt to muffle a cry, and to prevent herself from vomiting.

"You…you killed Lewis Prothero!" Her words were shaky and frightened. She sounded like a child who had just witnessed a cuddly animal being devoured by a carnivorous beast.

"Who?" Was all V offered in an apologetic, yet coldly indifferent tone.

"Lewis Prothero," Evey repeated incredulously. "You must know him."

"No, I'm afraid I don't. Would you care to enlighten me, or shall I stand here and continue to watch you behave hysterically?" V did not enjoy being kept in the dark, and he made that pet peeve abundantly clear with his sarcasm.

"Lewis Prothero," she yet again repeated, much to V's irritation, "he broadcasts that TV show late at night…the Voice of Fate. It's the only TV I ever really watch but I know it's him…He's one of the single most important Party members, because his show is one of the most watched. He's influential and powerful…and now…you've killed him," she indicated the dead body, as if proving to V that he really was deceased.

The sirens wailed louder, a reminder from reality.

"Evey, we don't have time for this, we need to go," V insisted.

Tears pinpricking the corners of her eyes, Evey glanced upwards at V, her hands still hovering near the dead body. Whether she decided to wait for the police, in the hope for leniency, or run off with the lunatic, V; her prospects weren't good. She could run to Gordon—but she doubted he would harbor someone as wanted as she, even if she was family.

V would leave her if she didn't make up her mind soon. He wouldn't risk capture because she was unable to decide which path to take on the moral trail. With a shaky sigh, she pushed herself up onto her feet and stared hard at V. She had made her decision.

Wordlessly, the two began heading for the door. The patrol cars sounded as though they were a few blocks away. They couldn't afford to waste any time. And yet, V suddenly turned, and headed back into the store

"V—what are you?"

She watched in disbelief as he headed toward the back, and opened a drawer near the register. He rifled through a few things before extracting a set of keys. Evey gaped as he locked both glass doors securely, testing them once before nodding in approval.

"You really are mad like they say," was all Evey could retort as the two skulked off into the night.


	7. Chapter 7: Visionary Vagary

**A/N:** Sorry for the delay. Enjoy the story. I'll try to be a better person in the future...but no promises...

* * *

"…don't you understand what you've done? You've murdered one of the most important people in the government. You're an armed and dangerous criminal, V. You…you could have power and…and influence! Don't you see…you're practically…I don't know…a celebrity or something…" Evey continued her speech as she paced in front of the couch the V had sunk into. While the young woman continued to ramble, V attempted to keep his focus on the book he was holding. It had been nearly ten minutes and he had yet to turn the page. 

"…maybe, oh I don't know…you could threaten people, make them listen…yeah…listen…"

A slight exhalation of air went unnoticed by Evey; and V did his best to remain calm. The chattering that this girl was capable of! Her words kept getting mixed up and mashed together. She struggled to take the thoughts that seemed so clear in her mind, and make them into understandable sentences.

"…they'd obey you for sure….you could…well, you could really change the world with this, you know…"

The gloved hand grasped the book's spine a bit tighter. What the hell was she going on about now? Clenching his jaw and trying to keep his voice even, he attempted to silence the tirade in a polite, restrained fashion.

"What, exactly, are you hoping to do, Evey? Take every political figure as a hostage? Threaten the world until things are they way you want them? Expect to eliminate corruption, greed, and a controlling government…so that all the people oppressed by these tyrannies can be free?"

Taken aback—whether it was because she was startled to hear V's voice after its absence for quite some time, or because she was offended by the rebuke—Evey frowned at the ground, puzzled.

"I…I guess I…"

"You guess? Evey, matters such as these cannot rely on guesses and uncertainties. They require planning and preparation. No room for error."

"But V, don't you see, you've--"

"Shot one of the most influential men affiliated with the government? Yes, Evey, I am aware. You've only reminded me a few dozen times."

The sarcasm annoyed Evey. In her mind, the two of them had reached a point of no return. V, whether he had meant to or not, had made a statement by shooting Lewis Prothero. He had lifted his hands up in the air, and in a display of flagrant rebelliousness had delivered two bold middle fingers to Chancellor Sutler. And it hadn't gone unnoticed. News reports revolved around the death of Prothero, all explaining that the hardworking broadcaster had succumbed to a heart attack as he was purchasing some groceries. And while most people were more than happy to swallow the lies being force fed to them, Evey knew some people had to be asking questions. Rumors were forming, because every day the story seemed to be repeated, as if to brainwash all the disbelievers. The whole situation made Evey's stomach turn with excitement. She had been a part of something that was important, something her parents would have been proud of.

Her parents…people she had not thought about in quite some time. It was a touchy subject for her, one she was more than willing to tuck away into the corner of her mind and nearly forget about completely. Mostly because up until this point she had been a sheep, a follower, something her parents would have despised. And now, she had the chance to change that. To live out their legacy, in a way. She wasn't particularly brave, nor was she entirely convinced that she was capable of risking her life for the sake of destroying a cruel, unyielding government, but she would be damned if she didn't try.

"V, you have to do this. You can't ignore what you did. It's not just going to go away."

Patiently, as if he were trying to explain a delicate, complex situation to a small child, V insisted, "Everything will go away given enough time, Evey. Wait a few weeks, and this entire situation will be forgotten."

"What about your mask? They'll recognize you for sure."

"There are other masks to wear," he countered.

"Why do you wear that mask, V?"

"Why don't you wear a mask, Evey?"

"Stop it, that isn't funny." Evey placed her hands on her hips, and she scowled.

"I never said it was meant to be." That was the last thing V said for the night, before he stood up from the couch, and headed toward his own room.

* * *

"I will not tolerate this any longer. I want answers, and I want them NOW!" Sutler's voice seemed to echo through the silent, dark room where Finch, Creedy, and the other prominent Party members had been assembled. He could feel every eye flicking towards him. What the hell did they expect him to do? Leap out of his chair and pull the identity and motive behind this terrorist, codenamed V, out of thin air? 

"Mr. Finch!" Apparently they did.

"Currently, no new news, Chancellor…the clerk working at the store at the time gave no helpful details, and--"

"That isn't good enough, Mr. Finch." The Party leader seemed to lean in closer, his pockmarked, wrinkled face magnified even more so than usual. His crooked, yellowing teeth gleamed wickedly at Finch. "When I said I wanted answers, I meant it."

"Yes, sir."

"Now, find this madman, catch him, and kill him. And Mr. Creedy!"

"Yes, Chancellor?" To Finch's right, the sneering man leaned forward, an action posessing the illusion of respect and full attention.

"Anyone caught spreading these rumors about the death of Lewis Prothero is to be punished. Do I make myself clear?"

"Crystal, sir."

"Good." And then almost as an afterthought he added, "England Prevails."

"England prevails," came the familiar echo.

The monitor went blank and the group of men were left alone. Instantly the backs of the gathered man slackened, as if a giant pressure had been removed from their shoulder blades. Finch's expression remained hardened even as the sneering face of Creedy loomed closer.

"If I didn't know any better," began the voice that Finch knew would someday sound identical to the devil's when he was whispering into his ear every sin he had committed, "I'd say you were trying to get yourself on Sutler's bad side."

Finch refused to acknowledge the incendiary comments—a verbal confrontation with Creedy would only exacerbate the situation…and his perpetual headache.

"You'd better be careful, Finch. Don't you have some Irish blood in you?"

What his heritage had to do with his current case, Finch had no idea. It took all of his self-control not to reach out and shake the stupid smirk of superiority off of Creedy's face.

"Well, I would start making some arrests," Creedy stood up from his chair, and made to leave, though he turned around and in a low voice completed his sentence, "and I'd start making them fast."

* * *

Evey stared at the television, not focusing any attention on it, but simply enjoying the noise and distraction it offered. Reclined upon the couch, she rested her head on an open palm and had her legs curled up and tucked under her. If she wasn't so concerned about the whereabouts of her only companion she could probably have fallen asleep. But V was missing. And he had been missing for nearly twelve hours—which was starting to worry her. Looking for something that would better distract her than the TV's reports of water shortages and possible cures for the latest strain of bird flu, she found a book lying on the coffee table. Not even bothering to read the title, she began a story about a ghost and a gypsy boy falling out of a man's coat. It was a bit too strange for her liking, and V's absence was unsettling. 

Standing up, she had held the book between her hands as she timidly called out V's name again and again. Wandering from room to room, many which she had not yet explored, Evey eventually found herself at the entrance to the closed door that she could only assume was V's bedroom. When she called out again, and heard no reply, Evey knocked upon the wood, which was slightly ajar. Even though her taps were light the door pushed open, revealing the insides of her masked captor's room.

A magnificent bed with crimson sheets was shoved to the side, its material unwrinkled, as if it had never been slept upon before. The velvet sheets and the plush looking pillows begged Evey to collapse into them—but she refused the call. Instead, she wandered toward what looked like a dressing room table and mirror, in front of it sat a stiff wooden chair. It occurred to her that this must be where V sat as he tied upon his mask before leaving his room. And, this was also the place where he untied the straps holding it in place, releasing his face from the prison of the grinning plastic.

She couldn't help herself. Mesmerized she inched her way forward, until she found herself sitting in the chair and staring at her reflection. To her right was a faceless sculpture of a head, a hairbrush, and a withering rose. To her left there was a poster attached to the mirror, a faded advertisement for some movie. She turned back to face her reflection, and was surprised at how unfamiliar it seemed. Her face seemed to have aged, her eyes had several dark bags ringing around them, her hair hung in limp, wavy strands. She looked awful and withered—her newfound life of crime had sapped her of life and vitality. But before she had time to fully pity herself she heard a familiar voice.

"Good evening, Lodon,"

Evey gasped. V was home! She pushed the chair back so hard that it fell—she didn't bother righting it. Her basic instinct told her to run, to get out of the room before he found her. And even though all the noise she was creating, and her feet pounding as she sprinted out of the forbidden room would have alerted him to where she had been, her fear pushed her onwards.

But as she found herself steadily approaching the voice's source, she noticed that she was heading right back to her original starting point—the couch and television. Which was odd because that would mean V had somehow apparated into the center of the Shadow Gallery without her hearing him. And while V was capable of stealth, she wasn't sure he could wear his polished black boots and walk on a stone floor without making a sound.

"Allow me first to apologize for this interruption."

What interruption was V talking about? The voice was loud and crystal clear, yet Evey felt as though he wasn't speaking to her. Well, if he wasn't speaking to her, who was he talking to? Had he completely gone crazy?

"Today, as I suppose many if not all of you know, is November the fifth."

Turning the corner, Evey involuntarily gasped when she realized that V was indeed within the room…on a television screen…

"I'm not sure how many of you are aware, that this is actually quite a historic day."

Like a zombie, Evey wandered back to the couch she had been perched upon and collapsed into it, her eyes never leaving V's face. A million questions entered her mind. Where was he broadcasting this from? Was it just some sort of trick?

"But, right now that is of little consequence, and time is rather precious for me, seeing as that there are those who do not wish me to speak."

"I suspect, even now, orders are being shouted into telephones, and men with guns will soon be on their way."

Guns? Evey wrung her hands in front of her in genuine concern. What the hell had V gotten himself into? More importantly, if he was captured, would he give away her location? Would she be caught too, and black-bagged?

"Why? Because words, the power of conversation, the ability to speak to the masses, is a weapon far greater than any one the government could ever construct."

Even though Evey was afraid, she remained attentive to the words V was speaking of. They seemed powerful, even though they were delivered in a low and calm manner. He wasn't like most of the men on TV, who screamed and shouted to get their point across, and still sounded weak.

"But words can only retain so much power, until actions prove them otherwise."

Actions…he couldn't be taking her advice? Addressing the Prothero murder…?

"So, as I pondered what I had done, the previous night, I realize that I my actions are capable of igniting these words, and setting them ablaze with more power than anyone could ever anticipate."

"For you see, last night, though it was not my intention, I set down a path from which there is no return."

No return? Evey rubbed her hands together. He was right, after this speech, he would be hunted until he was dead. The government would make an example of him—to send a message to any other future vigilantes. There was no turning back, now that he had somehow taken over a television station, and broadcast his message of anarchy across London.

"As I robbed what I assumed to be any other convenience store, a civilian refused to comply with me."

V paused on the screen, a twinge of palpable regret popping into what had been an emotionless tone.

"I had no other choice…I shot him…and I later was to learn that this man was Lewis Prothero."

Another pause, as if V were expecting a gasp of complete shock and surprise from his crowd.

"And this one action, I have come to realize, could possibly change the entire course of history, if fueled appropriately."

His hands clasped together in front of his chest, they clenched tightly under the leather gloves. Evey pondered what he meant by changing the course of history.

"Because, if it has not come to your attention, then allow me to suggest, that perhaps there is something very wrong with this country."

V nearly slammed his fist down on the table in front of him, but he restrained himself and only tapped it gently.

"We are persecuted and attacked for being anything other then obedient sheep under Chancellor Adam Sutler's rule."

A twinge of anger bubbled out of his voice, and for some reason, Evey could also feel rage welling up within herself. Why were his words making her react this way?

"I do not blame anyone for initial willingness. When shown the alternative; war, famine, disease, how could anyone pass up the opportunity to be protected and safe…"

He was right, she realized as a shiver went up her spine. This was all true, staring right back at her and the rest of the world, and yet she hadn't fully been able to realize it until now.

"…when the only price was, your freedom."

V's tone subsided, and he was calm again, speaking as if he were delivering the evening news.

"But, England, I ask you, isn't it time we stood against what we know in our deepest and innermost selves to be unfair and unjust?"

"…yes…" Evey whispered quietly.

"Isn't it time we make the government fear us? Instead of the alternative?"

"Yes." She repeated, a bit bolder.

"Whatever you choose to believe, I have begun something that cannot be stopped. Something that I will see through until the end—and I ask you, London, to join me."

Join? What did he mean by join?

"If my words, which were set off by an action, have moved you at all…I ask you…one year from now stand beside me, at the gates of Parliament. And I assure you, we will give them a fifth of November they shall never forget."

The screen blacked out at that point, leaving only a red symbol of a V with a circle around it, and the reflection of a face. Evey screamed when she saw it, and turned quickly, seeing that behind her was V. His gloved hands were clasped in front of him, and his stance was rigid as if in anticipation.

"Sorry, Evey, I didn't mean to frighten you."

As Evey collected her composure, she shook her head. "No, it's alright…did you…?" She trailed off, not exactly sure what her question was in the first place. There were too many things she wanted to ask.

"If you're asking if that was broadcast across the entire nation, than the answer is no, it has not." V stepped over to where the VCR and DVD player sat atop his television. He pushed a button, and the DVD player ejected a small silver disk. It rested neatly in V's gloved palm as he carried it over to Evey. With a swooping gesture, he bowed and presented the disk to her.

"V…what are you doing?" She asked, confused. The shimmering object lay in V's open hand, yet Evey was hesitant to take it.

"I'm presenting you with a choice, Evey."

"A choice?" She repeated, dumbfounded and confused. Feelings that seemed to intensify the more time she spent with V.

"Yes, Evey a choice. Here in my hand is something that will change your life. I guarantee it. Take it, and embark on a journey that you will never forget. Refuse…and remain here, in the Shadow Gallery, while the rest of the world evolves and grows and changes without you knowing a thing about it. It's your decision."

She bit her lip, perplexed beyond any degree she thought possible. Why did everything that escaped the man's masked lips have to be so riddled and confusing? If she took the disk, what sort of journey would that put her on? It was only a disk, and the alternative would be rotting away in the Shadow Gallery…well, if those were her options.

With minimal confidence, Evey reached out and grasp the disk between her fingers. Wordlessly she stared at V as he stood up from his low, sweeping bow.

"Excellent. I'll explain what must be done tomorrow. I suppose you should get some rest." V turned away and began walking away before Evey called out desperately.

"Wait! V…I don't understand." She had begun to follow him, the disk clenched in one hand and the other hand hanging helplessly by her side.

He didn't reply. And that infuriated her. She nearly snapped the disk in half as she tightened her fist, her knuckles turning white.


	8. Chapter 8: Veiled Vocation

**A/N:THANK YOU! **I appreciate all of the kind reviews! I promise I will get back to each of you individually as soon as possible. But, I don't want to keep you waiting any longer than necessary…so…here is the next chapter!

* * *

"Girl." Evey kept her head down as she shuffled around a collection of files that lay before her. She had found them scattered across a desk, like playing cards caught in a game of 52 pickup. Figuring that the busier she looked, the less likely it would be that someone would bother her, Evey had grabbed the pile and began to stack them, occasionally rearranging their order. Nobody questioned her existence, and nobody bothered her. She had continued to do this for over fifteen minutes. 

"Girl!" It was just as V had said, the studio was far to busy to be concerned with the likes of a plainly dressed person. Especially since Evey appeared to be working, she blended right in with her surroundings. People moved quickly from one hallway to another, not even bothering to give casual greetings to the others they passed. Everyone had a purpose, and little time to complete it.

"GIRL!" A hand slammed down in front of Evey, rattling both her thoughts and the table. It was then that Evey realized that the harsh voice was being directed at her. Slowly she raised her eyes up to the commanding presence before her.

A woman with sharp, pointed glasses was glaring at her—giving her a gaze that chilled Evey's blood. Her blonde hair was pulled back so tightly that it seemed to stretch the skin of her face back as well. In one of her arms she was cradling a stack of papers and folders that dwarfed Evey's meager pile.

"Y-Yes?" Evey questioned, her voice a combination of apologetic and frightened.

"I don't know who you think you are, but if you're going to last here, you better get much quicker when somebody calls for you, understood?"

"Yes ma'am." Evey stood, feeling as though an errand were about to be issued.

She was right.

"I need four lattes from the downstairs machine. Very little cream in two and one of those without sugar. Make sure that all are made with no added flavors, and don't forget the cup holders. And Deitrich would like his tea."

Before Evey could even ask what floor the latte machine was on, where she could reach the mysterious and severe woman after she had acquired these beverages, and where this Deitrich person was, whose name sounded somehow familiar, she had turned on her heel—her very high and pointed heel—and briskly exited the room. They retreating footsteps abandoning Evey sent her into an internal panic. Helplessly, she stared at the pile of paperwork she had been taking care of, hoping it would provide some sort of clue.

"Patricia can be a real pain," came a voice from behind her. Evey hadn't noticed but there had been another occupant in the room. A woman not much older than she was giving her a sympathetic smile and was inching towards her.

"Have you been working here long?" The woman prodded. Evey shook her head, afraid that if she spoke she would break the list of coffee orders she was trying hard to memorize.

"My name's Pam." Extending her hand, Pam smiled broadly. Evey returned the handshake with a weaker, yet polite smirk.

"The machine you're looking for is on the 2nd floor. Just take the elevator down and go to the right. Patricia's office is back up here, second door after the bathroom. And Deitrich is on the 16th floor, his office is huge, you can't possibly miss it."

At this new information Evey's expression transformed—she was now beaming at Pam.

"Thank you," she replied, grateful for the much needed help.

* * *

The 16th floor was much quieter. Few people roamed the spacious hallways, and they were less frantic as they moved about. As Evey carried the silver tea tray, she again felt invisible. Nobody turned to glance at her, no one even bothered to make eye contact with her. To them, she was nothing more than a secretary delivering beverages to the truly important people. Without her, the stars would have to work on empty bellies, but other than that, she served on real purpose. 

As she approached the end of the hallway, Evey noticed a door with a gold placard tacked onto the front. **Gordon Deitrich **It was then that Evey nearly dropped the tray and its contents onto the white, polished floor. Gordon, her cousin, was beyond that door. She suddenly realized why the name had seemed so familiar. He would recognize her for sure. And her name was all over the television, the newspapers…she would be in the custody of the Fingermen within the hour.

Evey hovered near the door, chewing on her bottom lip while she thought about her options. She could leave, and abandon the plan. But what then? If she didn't follow through with V's orders, she would have nowhere to return to. She could pretend that she hadn't been able to find Deitrich, though Patricia would probably just get annoyed and draw more attention to her, possibly firing her from a position she'd never had, on the spot. No, she would have to move as quickly as possible, and hide her face from her cousin.

Evey knocked quietly on the door with her elbow—her hands being completely taken up by the tray. Within the room she could hear Gordon pause before replying, "It's open!"

Nudging the door with her elbow, Evey managed to wedge her way inside the office. Gordon was walking around the room with a hands free phone.

"…I think it's a wonderful idea…crucifixions and the like…but you'll never get it approved."

Evey kept her head down, hoping that her cousin was so distracted by the conversation that he wouldn't notice a different girl bringing him his tea. She headed over to the table as he continued to leisurely pace about the room.

"…Yes I know you've worked hard on it…but…look…really now…"

Gordon covered his eyes with his hand, and sighed slightly.

"…just get rid of those few scenes, and we'll be all set for tomorrow, alright?"

It was at this moment that Evey had managed to get the tray down onto Gordon's desk, and she was beginning to make as quick and speedy an exit as she had an entrance, that Gordon's conversation ended. He removed the ear piece, and turned to face the newest addition to his office. And though Evey had nearly reached the door, her back to him, her hand inches from the polished knob, she panicked when he offered a polite, "Thank you, Miss…?"

Social decorum required Evey turn around and properly introduce herself—especially because she was far less important than the person addressing her. But if she turned around, he would recognize her face in an instant. And beyond her face, the last name, Hammond, would give her away completely.

After a lengthy pause, she managed to squeak out, "Adams."

"Miss Adams," Gordon began, his voice slowly getting louder, "please, don't be shy. I don't bite." He was rapidly approaching, and if Evey didn't find a way out, her identity would be discovered. All she had to do was push a door open, a simpler yet more difficult task could not be imagined.

"Mr. Deitrich, please forgive me but I really must be--"

"Evey?"

He was standing right beside her, his face now frighteningly close to her own. His presence was that of a shadow suddenly turned into a human. The two remained motionless, a current of palpable shock coursing between them.

"Evey," he repeated, bewilderment evident in his voice, "is that really you?"

She could have twisted the doorknob, and sprinted out of the office, never once looking back. Instead, she let her hand drop helplessly to her side, and turned to face her cousin. Her eyes remained downcast, as if she were immensely embarrassed. She crossed her arms, bracing herself for whatever was to come next.

When he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around her she nearly fainted from shock. He was far larger than she, both in girth and height. She looked like a tiny doll trapped in the embrace of an exuberant youth.

"Evey, my God," he whispered into her hair, "are you alright?"

Before she could reply he had stepped back, intensely staring at her. She shivered a bit, feeling rather exposed.

"Are you hurt? Are you alright?" He repeated, his eyes daring her to lie.

This was not the reaction Evey had been expecting. Her eyelids were wide and stretched, and disbelief had been scribbled large and bold over her face.

"I'm…fine…." She trailed off, not sure what to say.

"I've kept seeing your face on the news, hearing your name on the broadcasts. You can't imagine how worried I've been."

"Then…" Evey's eyebrows furrowed, "you're not angry with me? I mean…you're not going to call the Fingermen?"

Gordon took a step back, and frowned. "Evey! How could you say that?"

Hearing those words gave Evey a comfort that she had never before experienced. The relief shone through her face as her clenched muscles relaxed. But before she could fully express her gratitude, her cousin grabbed her wrist.

"We need to get you out of here, Evey. Before someone recognizes you. I can bring you home…just…stay here….while I think…just let me think."

Gordon went back to his desk. He sat down, and rested his head in his hands, rubbing them through his well-kempt, dark hair. Eventually he worked his way down to his temples, massaging them as if relaxing them would stimulate some sort of solution to reveal itself. Perhaps it worked because within a few seconds Gordon lifted his head up and pushed a button on the intercom. After a moment of silence, a new voice entered the room.

"Yes, Mr. Deitrich?"

"Ah, yes, Pam…I need a car downstairs in five minutes or so. I'll be going home for the rest of the day." Evey checked her watch, it was 11:30. Was he really allowed to come and go as he pleased?

"Certainly, sir. Is there anything else I can provide you with?"

"No, Pam, that's all. Thank you."

"Of course, sir." A soft beep indicated that the connection had ended, and the two family members were alone in the room.

Gordon stood up from his desk and approached Evey. Before she could ask several pressing questions that were on her mind, he had both of her hands in his. He stared into her eyes, eyes so full of emotion and genuine concern that Evey felt tears forming at the corners of her own eyes.

"Evey, we don't have much time. We need to find you a costume of some sort…" Suddenly, Evey involuntarily gasped. V was going to be bursting through the building in a few minutes…she had to tell Gordon.

"Gordon, wait, I…"

He either didn't hear her or chose to ignore her. "…I'm sure Marissa would have something…but how to get it up here…"

"Gordon, please, listen, there's something…"

Evey's words were useless. They floated over Gordon's head and out the open window. Her mouth screwed itself into a scowl that soon spread over her entire face.

"Gordon, listen to me!"

At the shrill scream, Gordon froze in mid-syllable. He gazed down at his tiny cousin, who was now literally shaking with anger. Her lips were pursed and her petite hands clutched Gordon's meaty, manicured ones.

"Evey?" He questioned, as if prompting a young child to explain a story in its entirety, and not to leave anything out.

"Gordon…V is coming…the terrorist."

"What?" His eyes widened, bewildered he shook his head as if trying to ward the idea away.

"He's going to be here any second…God if he finds out I've been talking to you…" Her eyebrows furrowed. A stain on the Persian carpet beneath her feet became increasingly interesting to gaze at.

"...we need to get out of here." Evey's head snapped upwards. "We have to leave before he can take over the building."

"Take over the building…? Evey have you lost your mind?" Incredulous, Evey gaped at Gordon. He looked as though he were a few moments away from laughter. What could possibly be so funny about a terrorist ambushing a television station, and taking it over?

"There are cameras," he pointed out one in the corner of his room with a giant flourish of his arm, "everywhere. If he even attempts to get close, security will stop him before he can get to the elevator."

"No, Gordon, you don't understand he--"

Evey never had a chance to finish her explanation. She might have been about to reveal the entire plan to Gordon. Or perhaps she was going to attempt to explain how insane she knew V was, and how logic tended to elude him. Whatever she was about to say, she was cut off by the entrance of a flustered, nearly hysterical Pam.

She had flung both doors open with the strength of professional football player. And the moment she was safely over the carpet line, she slammed both immense wooden doors behind her. Leaning against the framework she gasped to catch her breath, but didn't hesitate long before spluttering:

"Mr. Deitrich! There's a terrorist in the building! The masked man who robbed those stores!"

Gordon's head snapped backed to where Evey stood. She was trembling, and her face matched the paleness of the crisp white papers stacked on his desk.

"Oh God…it's too late…" she mumbled, her eyes unfocused and her breath coming in short gasps. "…he'll kill us." She whispered, an afterthought that did not need to be mentioned.

Pam said nothing and if she recognized Evey as V's accomplice she didn't make a mention of it. She remained perched against the doors, as if suggesting that her weight alone could prevent an intruder from barging in. Out of nervousness she began to gnaw on her lip. Eventually she dug through a layer of skin, and a trickle of crimson dribbled onto her chin.

Gordon was the only one of the trio who managed to remain relatively calm. He had untangled his hands from Evey's grip, and was now content to pace around the office. A few times he moved toward the window, peering out behind the white curtain, as if hoping to catch a glimpse of V departing out of one of the lower windows.

"…he'll kill me…." Evey murmured to herself again and again. Her legs became wobbly like a young fawn's, yet she did not fall. Breathing in ragged, sporadic gasps, Evey's eyes shot around the room, as if trapped in a frenzied dance. Her irises swam in a sea of white, never able to focus on one object or place for an extended period of time.

"…Good Evening, London…" Evey's heart nearly stopped when she heard to familiar line. A rush of emotions burst in her chest like firecrackers. V had succeeded. Somehow he had managed to overtake the station. Despite her nervousness, one of the explosions within her showered a mist of pride upon her. He had done it, he was broadcasting his message.

"What the hell?" Gordon heard the voice, and turned sharply to Pam. "Open the door," he insisted, turning to the frightened secretary.

Pam almost hesitated. But years of extended conditioning in doing whatever her bosses told her—no matter how degrading, pointless, or senseless it seemed—had done its intended purpose. She pulled the doors open, cowering behind one of them as soon as her job was done. Curling up in the corner, she watched as Gordon briskly headed towards the hallway.

"Gordon, don't go!" Evey shouted, yet remaining frozen to her spot.

Her words were futile, because Gordon continued walking towards the hallway. When he turned a corner and disappeared from sight, Evey's intestines had knotted themselves so tightly that she felt sick. V could be anywhere—he had been vague in telling her the specifics of the plan. From what limited information she had gathered from V, and while wandering about the building, he was most likely still in one of the broadcasting booths. As soon as the message was complete, V had promised that he would collect her in the women's bathroom on the main floor.

A thousand questions chased themselves around her mind. Would V search for her if she wasn't at the designated spot? What would he do if he spotted her leaving with Gordon? What if V was killed, could she blame him entirely for her kidnapping, labeling herself a victim of a heinous terrorist?

Faintly she could hear V's speech, there wasn't much left of it. She hadn't much time…she could either attempt to get past Gordon, and hide in the bathroom until V found her; hide in the office until the attack was over; or find Gordon and convince him to leave with her before the entire studio was crawling with Fingermen. Evey would never know what her choice would have been, because Gordon had appeared, motioning with his hands for her to come to him. She didn't need to be prompted again. Sprinting through the open doors, and abandoning the cowering Pam, Evey dashed to her cousin.

"Quick, we can use the emergency exit," he whispered. He led to her a door posted with multiple warnings about the alarm system that would be activated if the door was opened. Ignoring them, Gordon pushed open the heavy metal door, evoking a piercing shriek from the building's several different alarms.

"We have to get out before anyone sees us!" Gordon shouted above the din. Evey nodded, and forced herself to keep up with her cousin. For a portly man, he could move with surprising speed, and Evey found herself running to keep his pace.

As they reached the final flight of stairs, Evey breathed a small sigh of relief. They were in the clear—she was going to make it. And the minute that thought had popped into her mind, the sickest higher beings of the universe decided to be cruel.

Like an angry bullet—dressed in a business suit—Dominic shot through the door that would lead Gordon and Evey to freedom. His gun was pointed in front of him, and immediately aimed it at the pair. It took him a few seconds to realize who he was aiming at. But when he recognized Evey, his eyes widened and he gripped the gun as hard as humanly possible, as if he attempting to obliterate it into a thousand pieces.

"Don't you move!" He commanded, before reaching with his other hand into his pocket. Producing a walkie-talkie he spoke into it, his voice dripping with excitement and urgency.

"Sir…I've got her! Evey Hammond, accomplice to the terrorist V!"

A moment of crackling silence ensued. But eventually Detective Finch's voice broke through the static. "You haven't told anyone else, have you?"

Confused, Dominic stuttered, "N-no…"

"Good. Keep it that way until I get there."

Dominic shrugged before clicking the black radio off. He then turned back to the pair, reminding them, "Don't even think about moving."

"Wait, you don't understand!" Gordon shouted, putting his hands up. "I'm innocent! I was leading the terrorist to your custody. You have to believe me!"

Evey's head snapped so quickly towards Gordon that it was in danger of snapping off. Disbelief and shock marred her face.

"Gordon…how could you?"

"You didn't really think I'd help you?" He asked her, as if he couldn't quite fathom the level of her stupidity. "You're a wanted woman, Evey. Why would I keep you, a criminal? Why would I put my entire life at risk?"

"I-I thought…I thought you…" Evey trailed off, her eyes downcast. She fought the tremendous urge to break down sobbing, and began to lose as a tear rolled down her cheek. It splattered down onto the ground in front of her.

The door behind Dominic opened slowly, and Evey kept staring at the floor. She had no desire to look her impending doom in the face. The silence between the group of four settled like a blanket threatening to smother all of them. She felt Gordon stiffen beside her, and she heard Dominic mutter, "What the hell?"

The gun went off, and Evey screamed, feeling her chest for the puncture wound that was no doubt going to be the cause of her death. When she found none, she looked up, and nearly fainted.

V, his smiling masked face pointed up at her, was standing in the doorway. Dominic had turned around, attempting to shoot him, but V had grabbed his arm. The bullet had gone through the wall beside V, only a few centimeters away from piercing him. But Dominic wasn't going to give up without a fight. He attempted to wriggle out of V's grip, but the gloved hand held him fast. Evey watched the struggle, unknowingly holding her breath.

"Evey, come on!" Gordon reached for her wrist, and she instinctively pulled away.

"Get off of me!" She screeched, her voice nearly matching the pitch of the alarms going off around them.

"Evey, I was trying to trick him, I didn't mean any of it." He impatiently replied. "We have to hurry, or else we'll be caught for sure. Come on!"

The gears began to churn in her head. Did she follow Gordon, who moments ago had claimed that he was turning her over? Or did she wait and hope that V won the fight before the Detective and other reinforcements came?

The gun went off again, and the bang startled Evey. She turned to face Gordon, and he took that as a sign that she was willing to follow him. Grabbing her wrist, he yanked her back up the stairs. He attempted to explain his plan to her, but the noise was too much, and she never really heard any of it. She nodded anyway, pretending to understand completely. As they darted up the stairs, eventually exiting out one of the doors, Evey couldn't help but glance back down.

V was staring up at her. She knew that he was wearing a mask, and that the plastic expression couldn't change…but she felt as though he were scowling at her.


End file.
